The Maxwell Prodigy
by Anonymous Void
Summary: Sequel to The Maxwell Progeny. As a nation falls into chaos and ruin, two human weapons make the decision to return to where it all began.
1. Dawn of a New World Order

Author's Note: I know what you guys are thinking: "It's about damn time!" Well, let's just say that life got in my way and I had to take of school first before I could seriously devote time to writing Prodigy. However, I'm not an author who's going to leave you hanging so here at last is the beginning of part three. New characters will be introduced, some not so new characters show up again, and unlike Progeny, which was the intrigue part of this, there will be a hell of a lot more people dying this time around. Maybe not in this chapter but in future ones, you'll see. Enjoy, you know you want to.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language

Dawn of a New World Order

The setting sun created a sinister backdrop as one looked upon the majesty that was Washington D.C., capital of the last remaining superpower on Earth. The seat of power that held the most politically powerful person on the planet looked more like a graveyard of marble and concrete than it did of the beautiful splendor it had once possessed only mere days ago.

Watching the city through a pair of binoculars, the renegade General Keppel glared at the city with disgust. Things had changed so drastically in less than a few days that the general could hardly believe that he was standing where he was now.

Septum was in control now, there was no doubt about that. The man had shown up one day with two strange boys and then had proceeded in murdering all the elected officials, from the House of Representatives and Senate to the White House itself. Keppel knew for a fact that Septum had terminated the current president and had taken over the government soon after in his coup d' tat. Septum had yet to inform the rest of the nation about this and even though there would be an uproar about it, the General knew that the American public wouldn't really _do_ anything about it.

It had only been luck that he had been late to that meeting in the Pentagon and had heard about Septum's actions there. Taking a battalion of his own loyal men, he had taken to the hills outside of the city where he made camp and waited for the next opportunity to oust Septum.

The coup was more than likely complete by now, that is if the Supreme Court had also been eliminated. The only thing that kept Septum from his complete dominion was a 200 year old piece of paper on which this country had been founded on.

It had been a good thing that he had "appropriated" the Constitution and had taken it with him and his men during their escape. This document was the only hope they had now to rally against Septum and his mysterious, young allies. The problem would be to ignite the spirit of revolution that had created the United States of America into the people again and he had little to no idea of how to do that.

It could be said that Keppel was a man of action and even though he had a significant amount of intelligence to use, trying to getting the citizens to rise up against Septum seemed near impossible.

But he wasn't about to throw in the towel yet. He would have to wait and coax the fires of the American spirit before any major action could be taken.

And that was something he would do until the day he died.

---

Quatre Winner was a person known for his patience. It was extremely rare if he ever lost his temper.

Over the past couple of days, his renowned patience was being put to the limit until he could be seen stomping down the hallways in the foulest of moods one had ever seen him in. But what was the cause for this sudden change in personality in the charismatic Winner heir?

Jason fucking Ciliars, that's what!

Sure, this Jason was incredibly important when it came to figuring out the secrets of Project Maxwell but he was thus far…uncooperative. And that was the nicest word the blond used.

It also didn't help that Jason kept calling him a girl or a lesbo whenever Quatre would try to "interview" him. He was not a girl, damn it!

It was such a good thing that the complex had a gym in it; otherwise, the blond might let his steam off in an unproductive manner unbecoming of someone of his status.

In fact, it was after cleaning up from one of these workouts that he received a call from his father. He had been expecting that his old man was inquiring about his progress with Jason but was taken by surprise when he was told something else.

According to some sources, something was up in Washington and with the descriptions of a couple of the occurrences going on there, the Winner heir was sure that Project Maxwell was somehow involved. However, in order to confirm his assumption, he was going to have to consult…ugh…Jason again.

"Hey girly-man!" he was greeted as he entered the cell in which the dark-haired boy resided. "You're back early! Can't get enough of me, can you?"

Quatre clinched his teeth but refrained from losing his temper. He had more important things on his mind and he couldn't let his anger spoil this latest session. By God, he was going to need some therapy after this, or at least anger management.

"I'm not here for idle chitchat," he said as he sat down on a short stool. "Something's come up and I believe that it involves some of your old friends back at XAI."

"Oh really?" Jason snarked, rolling his eyes. "Why don't you pull my other leg?"

Ignoring this jab, the blond said, "I've heard of stuff at the capital of some weird things, one involving fire and another water. Tell me, who do you know can use those?"

"Fire, yeah right," Jason scoffed. "Mobias was the only guy who could use fire and I saw him get smashed into itty bitty pieces."

"Not according to what I know," Quatre challenged. "Who else can make people blow up into flames other than this Mobias?"

About to retort, Jason hesitated, as if a sudden thought had occurred to him. "Blow up you say?" he inquired. Getting a nod, he mumbled, "Sounds like Rex to me."

"Who's Rex?" Quatre asked. "What can he do?"

Looking a bit startled, Jason scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. "That's none of your business, girly-man."

Irritated, Quatre replied, "Fine then, no meals for you."

"What?" Jason said, blinking owlishly at the blond.

"You heard me," Quatre said as he got up and began to leave the cell. "No food for you until you begin cooperating."

Air rushed around the blond and he found that he could no longer move. Struggling with his uncooperative body, he heard Jason speak up back from where he sat on his cot.

"You really think you can threaten me like that? Pfft," the boy scoffed. "I could kill you right now, you know, before any of your sissy guards can come in to rescue you. In fact, I could've left a long time ago."

"Then why haven't you?" Quatre questioned, proud that his voice hadn't wavered in fear even though he was panicking in his mind.

"Safer here," Jason replied, letting go of the blond and laying down on his cot. "Two-eyes can't find me here and I don't feel like dieing anytime soon."

"And what makes you think Xavien'll be after you?" Quatre asked, slowly turning around to face the other boy.

"Same reason he's after Solo and his shadow," Jason shrugged. "We've practically destroyed a state chasing after those two, ya know."

"Tying up loose ends?" Quatre summarized questioningly. "Sounds like his style but what about Washington?"

"Who?" Jason deadpanned.

"Washington D.C.," Quatre reiterated. "You know, the capital of the United States?"

"Whatever," Jason shrugged. "Don't really care about it."

Huffing, Quatre crossed his arms. "I meant about the two guys in Washington, the ones with the powers."

"What about them?"

"I was hoping you could give me some insight into all this," Quatre spoke, gritting his teeth together.

"And you think I know?" Jason finished off. "Please. I don't even know half the mumbo jumbo that went on there. All I do know is that I got stuck with a lot of needles and shocked a lot of times. Next thing I know, I can do this!"

A blast of wind threw the blond off his feet but, luckily, Quatre was able to land on his feet. Those gymnastics lessons were reason paying off here. Jason, however, just looked bored and hadn't even turned his head to watch the blond flail in the air. For some reason, that annoyed Quatre even further.

"Surely you know something…" he prodded.

Jason remained silent for minutes on end, not saying a word. For a minute, Quatre doubted that he was even awake, at least until Jason spoke up suddenly. "There was this guy at a church. He knew about what happened, too much really. He even mentioned that name, Xavien, and that he would be glad to get his hands on him."

"Do you know where this church is?" Quatre asked, his hopes rising.

"Maaayyyybeeeeee," Jason drawled out.

Recognizing this tone of voice, Quatre knew better than to push ahead. Jason wasn't going to do anything other than insult his masculinity, something he was not thrilled to experience again. Turning on his heel, he left the cell, slamming the door shut with a bang. He got a tiny bit of satisfaction from getting a glimpse of the boy looking surprised at the door, clearly expecting for the blond to push the topic further.

But some good did come out of this; there was someone else out there with intimate knowledge of Project Maxwell, someone more than likely to be more cooperative than Jason. He'd need to report back to his father though and get an update as to their next move. With everything seemingly spiraling out of control as they were, the two men needed to plan what they were going to do next and how they could profit from this change in events.

---

"Can you believe this?!" Dorothy demanded. "He left us here! He _left_!"

"Can't you keep it down, Dorothy?" Relena whined. "You're hurting my head."

"Well excuse me!" Dorothy snapped before sighing. "Sorry about that, I'm just too pissed off. After all this time, I didn't think he would just abandon me—er, us like this. He didn't even stick around to say goodbye or anything!"

"He's Solo," Relena sighed. "What else would you expect from him?"

Dorothy paused and started to think about it. When she did answer, "You know, now that you mention it, I'm wondering why he hadn't done it sooner. Still, I'd like to shove my foot up his ass!"

"He probably wouldn't even feel it," Relena groused, not willing to muster up the energy to debate with her best friend. Dorothy was all she had left now, especially after what had happened to Heero…

It still hurt to think about the love of her life, even now…

Dorothy frowned at this blatant action of submission but did nothing to try and provoke her friend into reacting. To tell the truth, it would've been a waste of energy, something neither of them could afford right now.

Speaking of right now, the two girls were still in the midst of ruined downtown Los Angeles, trapped by the chaos that had taken root in the streets as looters and rioters trashed everything in sight. It was a fortunate thing that the girls were still in the same building that Solo had ditched them in; the place was still under construction and held no value to anyone. They only ventured out when there were lulls in the violence down below and only to get their hands on some food to stay alive. Otherwise, the clothes on their bodies were slowly becoming rags and it had been some time since either had had a shower of had access to some make-up.

Truly, they looked terrible and they both knew it.

The buzzing of helicopters in the air soon followed by the soft hissing of tear gas canisters fall down into the streets could be heard by the girls but neither took notice of it. This ploy had been tried hundreds of times by the National Guard and it hadn't had any kind of affect other than to piss off the people in the streets.

Hearing the sound of gunfire as soon one shot at a nearby helicopter only confirmed them, the screaming of people following instantly as people realized that one of them was armed and potentially dangerous.

It was just a vicious cycle of violence down there but Dorothy knew that they needed to get out of here as soon as possible. Their luck could only hold up for so long and it was only a matter of time before their building was invaded. Chances were great that when they were found, rape would be a certainty.

The tree that they got a good look at every day wasn't helping matters either, not that it had in the first place. At first, there had been attempts to cut the thing down or gnaw off of it for firewood by the people down below. The tree had retaliated, at first destroying only the tools that the people attempted to use before taking it a step further and actually killing the would-be perpetrators.

Needless to say, it was the only thing in the city that got quite a wide berth of space and was left alone.

None of that helped Dorothy or Relena one bit and time was turning against them as things became more and more anarchic.

"We gotta get out of here," Dorothy sighed as she took a seat next to Relena.

"But we can't," Relena murmured back. "It'd be suicide. We'd be surrounded by a bunch of creeps, raped and killed the moment we left this place."

"Sooner or later they come to us," Dorothy voiced this thought. "Either way, the results the same. The army can't get control over the city and the creeps out there aren't going to stop doing what they're doing. Time's running out."

"How could Solo ditch us here?" Relena sighed. "The least he could've done was take us out of here before leaving us."

"And we're right back where we started, huh?" Dorothy commented.

An explosion in the distance filled the lull in conversation as both girls contemplated their options. Damned if they stayed, damned if they left. No matter what they did, they were screwed.

And not in the good way either.


	2. Film Reel of the Mind

Author's Note: If you are just joining us and have no clue as to what the hell is going on, go back and read both The Maxwell Project and The Maxwell Progeny. Now, back to business, I bet all you fans were surprised when I suddenly updated last week, eh? Well, I was looking through my stories recently and noticed just when I finished posting Progeny and I thought to myself that it wasn't fair of me to keep ya'll waiting as long as you have. However, I haven't quite written as much as I had wanted to so updates will probably be a weekly thing for now. Don't worry, I am an author of my word and I will finish this long ass story even if it kills me. So, without further ado, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language

Film Reel of the Mind

Sunset in Washington.

The setting orb of flame had lit up the sky to the point that it was red, a grim reminder to one Trieze Khushrenada as he sat at his desk, his elbows propped on the flat surface and his face planted on his hands. The Colonel couldn't will himself to look out his office window and taken in the crimson sight; it reminded him too readily of all the bloodshed that had occurred recently.

He had never thought things would have gone as far as they had. Whatever tenuous control he had had on the situation was been broken long ago and he had done nothing but delude himself that he still had a grasp on it.

All the maneuvering, the deception, the betrayal that he had orchestrated, all of it had done nothing to prevent this travesty. In fact, it may have just only made it more possible.

It had all started when he had first entered the armed services, possessing an iron will to defend his country against all threats. In no time at all, he had advanced through the ranks, getting not only the admiration of his contemporaries but the respect from all the men and women who he would lead into battle.

He had believed at one time that the nation he fought for, the United States of America, was the greatest autonomy in the world, one which the people itself ruled it. He found out little by little that such was not the case. If anything, the United States was anything but an autonomy. When you delved through all the intrigue and glamour, you would find that it was not the people who ruled this great nation.

It was business, specifically three in total, WEI, Romafellor, and XAI, who owned the government and held all the political power. The politicians and bureaucrats were just for show; they held had no real power.

And the more Trieze learned, the more horrified he became. The more horrified he became, the more resolution he obtained. He had vowed that he would change this, make the American ideals a reality than just a fairy tale told to children. He would oust the Big Three from their lofty perches, give control back to the people where it belonged.

He had begun by entrenching himself with WEI; it hadn't been hard to do so thanks to the Winners' trying to up keep their positive world image. He had volunteered to become WEI's eyes and ears in the capital, reporting everything to Raberba Winner himself that could give the man just that much more power.

Next, he had to mold himself as a double agent and try and sell himself out to Romafellor, which was hard to tell the truth. He had met the gnarled Mr. Romafellor himself and that meeting was still burned into the Colonel's memory. It had taken a lot of persuasion but he had managed to convince Romafellor that he could give him invaluable information, specifically the kind that would predict what WEI was up to. Looking for any kind of edge on his competition, Romafellor finally agreed, putting Trieze in the position that he had wanted to be in.

Last, by not least, the Colonel then turned his sights to XAI. It had seemed easy at first but then he had run into a brick wall. Xavien was one paranoid fellow, no question about it, and Trieze had to use all the diplomacy he possessed to try to convince the man he was legit. In the end, he ended up taking advantage of Xavien's paranoia and had offered to keep a close eye on his customers in Washington. Seeing this as a way to spy on his close associates, specifically Admiral Noventa and General Septum, Xavien had acquiesced.

After so much work and wheeling and dealing, Trieze had achieved the very position he had been seeking; a position in which he could play each of the Big Three against one another until they became so engrossed in one another that the would leave their power alone just long enough for Trieze to get it away from them.

Things had gone downhill, though, especially when he found out about Project Maxwell and Septum and Xavien's plans for it. Appalled, Trieze had done everything he could do, leaking information of the Project to Noventa in hopes the popular Naval officer could do something about it. When it didn't seem like Noventa was getting anywhere, he then leaked the information directly to Romafellor and Quatre Winner.

However, he had to remain doing his act. He was rooting for WEI to pull an upset throughout this but as it turned out, Romafellor had dived into it too readily. So whenever one of the Big Three did something or planned to do something, he would alert the other two to this and withdraw to let them have it out. It was by doing this that he had learned that Noventa had come across one of the products of Project Maxwell and Quatre had met up with him. As soon as the call with Quatre had ended, he immediately alerted Romafellor about it then told Xavien of it.

Two days later, the disaster in Los Angeles occurred and Septum began his rampage. As all the chaos grew around him, Trieze found himself not only out of his depth, but drowning as well. He had not intended any of this to have gone this far but it had quickly escaped his control and now…

…now what could he do?

What could he have done to prevent this? Any of this? Was he just to remain a bit player as everything he had risked his life for was grinded into dust under a few madmen's boots?

"Colonel."

He didn't need to look up to know who it was that had addressed him. The deep yet positively feminine voice belonged to only one person he knew: Lieutenant Une, the right hand of all of his operations and one of the small handful of people who knew what he was doing.

The tallish woman that stood at attention, opposite of his desk, was quite pretty for someone in her profession, her stern facial features a mask shielding it. Her infamous glass perched on her nose, magnifying the narrow eyes that could berate and silence any young army private in a second. Brown hair was pulled back and twisted into two braids that formed two buns on her head; the dark uniform she was wearing prim and ironed out. There was no question, she meant business to whoever saw her but only Trieze could say he had seen the other side to this woman. He had seen her with her hair let down, the glasses removed and the kinder, gentler side of her exposed.

In time, he would need to see that side of her but right now there were more important things to deal with.

"At ease," he spoke up, lifting his head from his hands and looking up at the female officer. Eyeing her closely, he frowned slightly and asked, "Is something the matter, Lady?"

The corners of Une's mouth twitched upwards, a sign to Trieze that something was up, something good at least. "There is, Excellency," she said in answer.

Sighing, he put a finger and a thumb to his forehead. "How many times do I have to tell you you do not have to call me that?"

"Force of habit," Une said apologetically.

"You're the only one that calls me that," he replied dryly. "So what brings you here in such a bright mood, Lieutenant?"

"I have just received word that we may not be out of the game just yet," Une answered, the lieutenant giving in to impulse and letting a small smile out. "It seems that General Keppel is against Septum's hostile takeover and has deserted the capital with all the men loyal to him."

Perking up at this bit of information, Trieze began to contemplate what their options were. A defection? One involving another of Admiral Noventa's protégés held great potential, no more than that. While not as popular as he himself was, Keppel held more respect than anything. If given the choice between Septum or Keppel, most military personnel would choose Keppel in a heartbeat.

Perhaps there was a chance to rectify all this after all…

Then again, there was the possibility, or probability, that people would see this defection as treason, which implied a whole new set of problems altogether. However, if he let that hold him back, then Septum and Xavien would remain unopposed in their conquests. People like them wouldn't just settle for taking over one nation; they'd expand and with the weapons of Project Maxwell on their side…

"Seems like Keppel might be in need of allies," he thought aloud. "If he wants to stand at least a chance against Septum, he'll need inside information, the kind that I might be able to provide…"

He was not thinking of anyway to gain from this. He had given that up long ago for his ideals. No, what he was pondering was how he could get in contact with the renegade general while keeping Septum and Xavien in the dark about it.

Flicking his eyes up at Une, he asked, "You wouldn't happen to know of any secure lines to the General, would you?"

"In a manner of speaking, we'll have one soon," Une answered confidentially, having already taken the necessary steps to procure one. It wasn't established yet but it should only be a matter of time, according to her logistics.

"The sooner, the better," Trieze stated. "Keppel seems to be our only hope for getting out of this and the Winners don't seem bothered at all by this. We'll have to cut them out of the loop and focus solely on ousting Septum."

"Very well," Une said, bowing her head in understanding. Before she could leave, however, she was stopped by the Colonel's young yet commanding voice.

"Get Merquise and Noin in on this," the officer ordered. "I'll deal with the Winners myself for now. We need to play this close to the chest and we can't afford to let this escalate any further."

"Yes sir," Une said and started to leave again only to be stopped one more time.

"And Lady? Try not to get yourself found out and killed," Trieze added. "The last thing we need is to be discovered or deemed a sizeable threat to Septum and Xavien. I ask this not just as your superior officer…but as your friend as well. Too many have already been lost because of this."

"Of course," Une said, giving the Colonel a lingering smile that seemed uncharacteristic of her before leaving the office to put her superior's orders into action.

---

"The truck got me that time…"

It had been the shrieking calls of seagulls that had woken the sore body up and it was something that immediately annoyed this person. It felt like he had been asleep for some time now…who knew how long…

Wait. How was he a he? For some reason, he felt it in his gut that he was a he and not a she. In fact, he hadn't seen a she for most of his life, or at least that's what his head was telling him.

_Ya gotta name I can call ya by? Don't think ya'd want me ta call ya something ya don't like._

_I dunno._

A name? He…didn't have a name…did he? Oh man, his head was killing him! He felt as if somebody should have been here with him. Yet he could sense that he was alone, laying against a flat yet soft surface with the sounds of birds keeping him up.

_Where are we?_

_We're getting out of here._

Where was he? Huh, maybe if he opened his eyes, he'd find that out. Doing so, he snapped them shut immediately as the light before him nearly blinded him. He had seen some big and blue, that was for sure and he had the impression that he was lying on sand. Was he in a desert? He had a feeling that he wasn't suppose to be in one so did that mean he had left it with someone else? And why was he leaving a desert with someone else in the first place? God, this was confusing.

_God? Whose that? Does he live here or somethin'?_

Oh man, why did he have such a headache? Damn you God, whoever you are! This was probably your fault too, jackass.

_I'm afraid that I've kept your leash too loose for too long and that, I will admit, is my fault. I let you spend too much time with 12093 and look at what it's done to you._

That voice…what…

_From the beginning you have been nothing more than a weapon, a tool of war that I can wield at any moment I choose._

A weapon? Him? Couldn't be. Weapons couldn't feel pain and this headache was all the proof that he needed. But still, there was something about that voice…something dark about it, cruel even. He felt as if he wanted the sand underneath him to split and swallow him up, anything to keep the owner of that voice away from him.

_Did you really think that you could escape me, 11085?_

Hell yeah he did. Wait, is that voice the reason he left the desert with that other person? And what was up with the numbers? Like hell that was his name!

_I guess I'll just call ya Kid then until you can come up with one._

Yeah, that was his name. Kid. Wait, that sounded stupid. Who the hell came up with such a lame name like that? Honestly! Parents probably named him that or something.

_What are parents?_

Yeah, what were parents anyway? If he knew who such people were to name him Kid, he'd hunt them down and beat the living shit out of them!

_So what do I call you?_

_Name's Reaper._

Now he was just confused. Wasn't his name Kid? Well, if it was, it's not anymore! Now Reaper he could work with! Yeah, it was awesome, wasn't it? A chuckle escaped his lips, surprising him. Hadn't known he could do that. You learned new things everyday it seemed.

But still, Reaper was a kick ass name.

_Why don't you run?_

_Because there is no escape. There's no escape in this life, only the next._

Ahhg! God! What was with all the voices?! He could hear so many. Sometimes he could hear a voice that he somehow identified as his own, other times it was complete strangers that he didn't know. It only served to make his head throb more in pain and he could almost swear that he was getting a nosebleed from all the strain.

_I've been running ever since but I'm not the type of person who can move from place to place without settling down._

That voice…it sounded sad; sadder than all the others and he couldn't help but feel sympathy for it. But why?

_You wouldn't. I know you wouldn't…_

Wouldn't what? He didn't know whose voice that was but it sounded like an angel's. He just couldn't get enough of it! He also had the image of violet eyes and a strange black dress flash in his mind, the image granting him a feeling of adoration and maternal love.

But who was it?

_It isn't our place to force your friend into something he doesn't want to do, child. If Solo wants to keep it to himself, then he has that right to do so._

This one was a fatherly tone and it gave him some reassurance. But who was Solo? Something was egging him, telling him that he should know who exactly Solo was.

_We're not out of the clear yet, that is if we are both on the same side._

He had forgotten who this was and for a moment he thought it had been this Solo the previous voice had mentioned. He immediately discarded that thought though as he had a large feeling that that wasn't it.

_Ya wrecked the truck and now you're thinkin' of leavin' me and Duo out here? I don't think so. C'mon Duo, we's got a ride ta catch._

He saw another image in his head, but unlike the last one, this wasn't a flash. He saw long, shoulder-length, blond hair and hardened green eyes that had a tendency to change into an amber hue. He heard vulgar language, felt an immense heat, and the strong but not silent presence that was associated with it.

_I guess I'll just call ya Kid then until you can come up with one._

A smirk…and then it all came rushing back.

A cold table, needles and tubes, electric shocks, a small, cold cell, cruel eyes the color of green…and brown? Intense heat raining down from the sky, the feel of warm water washing away grime, the sight of fire reaching upward to the sky and giving chase after a truck… Exotic animals, a guy with hair covering an eye, a girl with weird eyebrows, a Chinese guy who was Japanese with a girlfriend who screamed a lot… A fatherly priest, an angelic nun, a repentant man with a tragic past, a grandfatherly man who picked up a boy in the middle of nowhere and took him it, a handsome young man with a weird sounding name that sounded like "Kat"…

A whirlwind of memories flooded his mind as images of people with names attached to them, events filled with horror and violence that could only stem from nightmares, a control over the very fabric of time that surrounded him all the time, and the separateness that only comes from the knowledge of having more than one personality made itself known and the boy began to believe that a nosebleed was immanent.

And then in an instance, it was over and he knew who he was, knew what was going on about him, knew what it was he needed to do.

Once violet eyes opened to reveal irises that were duller in color, more of a cobalt blue than the purplish hue it once sported. A smirk slowly spread across the young man's face, giving him an eerie look of wickedness that was completed with a deep chuckle escaping him.

At long last, Duo had finally returned to the world.


	3. Like a Movie

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence

Like a Movie

The slamming of a trailer set upon a big rig echoed out into the darkness of the night, that darkness only broken by the pale streetlights that lit up the vast parking lot. Running footsteps soon followed, a masked man climbing into the passenger side of the 18-wheeler, yelling at his partner to hit the gas as he slammed the door shut.

The enormous automobile shuddered as it began to pull away from the docking bay it had been parked up, making its way across the parking lot and onto the adjacent road that led away from the complex it had just left.

Watching the large building with a distinctive X on it drift further and further away, the man in the passenger seat crowed, "We did it!"

Behind his seat in the cramped sleeping quarters of the cab, several other masked men nosily agreed to his proclamation, each one careful not to accidentally pull the triggers on their semi-automatics. The concept of turning on the safety had clearly not entered their minds.

"Troy better be happy," the masked driver grouched from his seat. "Stealing all this crap from XAI? He's got balls, I'll give him that."

"As if XAI's gonna miss this," the man in the passenger seat snarked. "They got so much crap they probably wouldn't notice it's gone."

"But they'll notice the dead guards," a man from the back piped up.

"And your point?" the masked passenger retorted. "XAI has so many people working for them that they won't care about some dead guards. We're home free man!"

Another cheer erupted from the back and the masked passenger grinned goofily from his ski mask.

With the headlights on high, the truck sped along the highway, not in the least concerned about getting pulled over or even hunted down. It was smooth sailing from here on in.

At least it was until a slight figure up ahead was illuminated by the headlights, the figure standing in the middle of the road and looking right at them.

"What the fuck is this guy's problem?" the driver muttered, starting to slow down.

As they drew closer, the men could start making out features of the figure: the long blond hair, the dirtied clothing, the charred vest, and the figure's height.

"It's just some crazy," the passenger said aloud. "Run him over."

A chorus of "Yeahs" and one "Hell yeah" broke out from behind and the driver shrugged, taking his foot off the brake and pressing down on the accelerator.

Quickly, the distance between the figure and the truck was crossed and the passenger could hear one of his fellows whisper, "Man this is gonna be awesome!"

He couldn't have agreed more. The sound of their truck running this idiot over would be more than worth it. In no time at all, they were upon this blond moron and it was show time.

---

The truck rammed into the blond figure but instead of running him over, the person stood complexly still, something that remained a given as the front of the truck warped out of shape and wrapped around him. Instantly, the truck that was moving at eighty-five miles an hour was grounded down to zero, the back wheels of the truck lifting off the ground momentarily before slamming back down onto the pavement.

A hiss of exhaust escaped the ruined engine but other than smoke, nothing happened. Then a creak escaped soon followed by the blond figure pulling himself out of the destroyed front, not even a scratch marring him.

Eyes that had been previously shut cracked open to reveal pure green eyes and the mouth slowly parted into a grin. Damn that had been fun! It was going to take a lot more than a mere 18-wheeler to take him down!

Actually managing to push the truck back a few feet, Solo, the subject of a highly illegal human experimentation program and blessed with invulnerability and other nice stuff, shrugged his shoulders, flexing the muscles and letting out a mouthful of air.

A door to the cab of the truck fell off its hinges, soon followed by a masked guy falling out and rolling on the pavement in a way that made a laugh escape the blond. As the man stumbled to his feet, he gave Solo this pissed off look that was accompanied by several other dirty looks and semi-automatics being aimed right at him.

How lame.

"Fucker!" a man roared and began firing at him, the other masked men unleashing bullets simultaneously.

What should have been a massacre was soon turned upside down on its head as the bullets struck the blond and ricocheted off him. It would be the cries of the masked men that would scream out into the night as they were mowed down by their own bullets. As the gunfire came to an abrupt halt, Solo sighed and put a hand up to his forehead.

"They never learn," he groused and looked to a side, raising an eyebrow as he saw two other masked men splayed out down the road. With the trail of blood leading towards the truck, Solo looked back at the vehicle and "hmmed" at the sight of the shattered windshield. Looks like those guys weren't wearing their seatbelts; served them right too.

A moment later found the blond at the back of the truck, prying open the doors of the trailer with ease, the locks snapping open beneath his might. Getting a good look at the contents within, the blond whistled, taking a particular note of the XAI logos all over the place. He didn't know what these guys wanted with all this junk but the one thing he was sure about was all this stuff had to go.

A few minutes later, Solo was taking his time as he walked away from the scene of the wreck, hands in his pockets and not in any hurry in particular. Stopping by one of the dead masked corpses, the blond looked down at the man's black, bulletproof vest and compared it to his own. Shrugging off the ruined piece of cloth, he pilfered the dead man's vest and put it on before resuming his slow and steady walk.

A few seconds later, the truck's trailer exploded into a ball of flames, tearing the vehicle apart and destroying not only the stuff inside of it but the rest of the truck as well.

Damn, now if only this could've been a movie…

---

It was quiet out there. Whether or not it was a good thing, neither Dorothy nor Relena knew but both girls were determined to get out of their predicament right then and there. It may not have been the best timing since the sun had set long ago but the two blondes were just going to have to take that chance.

They descended the floors to the ground floor, getting a good look at the devastation that looters had done to it. Despite still being under construction, not even this place was immune from the chaos outside. However, they weren't going to go out the front but the back since both were sure that no one was going to be there, at least right now.

"Ready Relena?" Dorothy whispered to her friend, at the door and ready to push it open.

Relena gulped but nodded her head anyway. She had a bad feeling that they were not going to make it far but that could just be her fears getting in her way.

Hopefully…

Slowly, Dorothy opened the door but not pushing it too far, trying to prevent the hinges from squeaking or making any sound at all, failing utterly at them. Peeking out, Dorothy froze, straining her hearing and peering into the darkness without, searching for any potential threats. When none were forthcoming, she gestured with a hand towards her friend and opened the door wider, creeping out into the smoky ally beyond.

Following after, Relena let out a whimper and let the door shut behind them. The sound of the door closing and locking startled both of the girls and when they tried to open up their only escape they found they were unable. Looks like they had only one way to go now…

It was only a few feet away that both girls were startled once again as Dorothy stepped onto a large mess of glass shards, the pieces of glass littering the ground of the ally. For two people trying to keep their presence on the down low, this was one obstacle that both dreaded. Both feared that trekking across the mess would make too much noise and unfortunately, there was a large slab of concrete blocking the way behind them.

That is if a large chunk of a building counted as a large slab of concrete.

"Should we run…?" Relena hesitantly suggested but Dorothy shook her head in negation.

"We might cut through our shoes if we do that," the blonde said. "We'll have to walk it. Damn it."

Relena whimpered again as she allowed her best friend to take her hand and slowly lead her over the glass minefield. Every step they took created the crackling sound of glass being crushed and both winced with every time. They were taking this slowly, only using the toes of their shoed feet and not pressing down with their heels. High heels could have done wonders here…

It felt like an hour had passed but was probably only a few minutes by the time they reached the exit to the ally and from there their ticket out. Now they only had a whole city to cross and it was in no way going to be anything like trekking across their hometown of Boulder.

"C'mon," Dorothy urged as she set the pace, power-walking across the broken street, heading in a random direction. She had no idea where in the city they were but they were just going to have to chance it.

"Do you know where we're going?" Relena whispered questioningly.

Damn it; now she was going to have to admit it.

"No clue," she answered, feeling as if a certain other blond should be answering that way. Great, she was thinking of Solo again, that bastard.

"Then why are we going this way?" Relena asked.

"You have any better ideas?" Dorothy asked back, dragging her friend behind her as she tried to quicken their pace. Fortunately, Relena wasn't holding Dorothy back by refusing to cooperate so that was in itself a blessing.

"How do we know we are heading to a bad part of town?" Relena continued to ask.

"We don't," Dorothy answered. "But this is L.A. Every part of it is a bad part of town."

"You have a point," Relena acknowledged.

Both girls suddenly froze as a loud popping sound caught their attention. Putting two and two together, both figured that someone was shooting a gun. Whether it was up in the air or at somebody, neither knew but they weren't curious enough to check it out. If anything, it gave them more motivation to get a move up and get out of this nightmarish place.

If they had thought things were bad before, it was much worse when they were facing it in person. It was like stepping into a National Geographic picture, one of complete devastation. Buildings were falling apart piece by piece, the streets and sidewalks were covered in spiderwebs of cracks, light poles sprawled across streets and those that were still standing functioned pretty weakly. Thus the girls did not have much of anything in the light department; the darkness of the night surrounded them but they weren't cold at all. Heat retained by the nearby Pacific held the coldness at bay, something unusual for the two girls who had grown up in the middle of a desert all their lives.

As they made their way through the ruined city, they would find themselves in areas that were worse than the one they had just left and other times better. Occasionally they had to backtrack as their way was blocked by an oversized root, one that sprouted up out of the ground and towered over the two, making them feel insignificant in comparison.

Every so often, though, they'd hear the approach of a group of city dwellers. Whether they were looters, gang members, or innocent people who had no intention of harming them, the two girls would hide, be it in an alley on a few occasions or the one time they maneuvered around an overturned car to avoid being seen.

Dorothy could tell without looking back at Relena that her friend was scared out of her wits' end and truth be told, so was she. However, after hanging around Solo and getting attacked randomly by groups of superpowered teens, one got used to the stress. Whether that was a bad thing or not remained to be seen.

Peeking around the second overturned car that they had hid behind, Dorothy checked to see if the coast was clear. Thus far, their luck had held up but the blonde had no clue had far away they were from the city's limits. Reaching a hand back for Relena to hold, she shook the appendage when she felt nothing take hold of it.

Then a large hand that Dorothy definitely knew did not belong to Relena took hold of hers and she was pulled back right into the torso of a large African American, the dark skinned man looking down at her with a few of his teeth missing. Struggling against the ratty-clothed individual, Dorothy found Relena nearby being held against her will by a couple other men, both wearing red bandannas on their heads, one of the men holding a large magnum at the blonde's head.

"Let go, shithead," Dorothy swore as she kicked at the large man's shins. The man looked down at her without removing his grin, letting go of her with a hand only to slap her hard with it. Having not expected such a blow, Dorothy stumbled back only to be pulled right back into the large man's body.

"Honky bitch oughta 'ppreciate what we's doin' for her," the large male spoke, his deep voice rumbling with each word he said. "Don't seem she knows what creeps there are out here, droolin' for a chance to tap her ass."

"Damn straight," one of the two dark skinned men holding Relena agreed, grinning toothily while the other holding the gun chuckled.

"Can't let just anybody tap that," the large man continued as Dorothy slowly recovered her senses, still dazed from the slap. "Be a shame too. We're doin' this outta the kindness of our hearts and she kicks me."

"Shame on her," the man with the gun said. "Need's some manners, what she needs."

"Leave us alone," Relena said, near hysterical as her eyes began tearing up.

"Can't do that, ya see," the large man said, leaning in closely to Dorothy and taking in a long whiff of her hair. With a hand sliding down to grope her ass, he continued, "pretty little bitches like yous needs guys like us ta protect you. And for that, yous got to pay the toll."

"What's that?" Relena whimpered.

"You riddin' my big fat cock," the large man said, getting guffaws from his buddies.

"Pigs."

Now that was a voice that didn't belong to any of the five and the three males snapped their heads around, looking around for the origin of the voice. They found that in the form of a young man with jet black hair that was pulled back into a pony tail and dark onyx eyes that glared at them with disdain. A small, yet chiseled torso clad in a loose blue tank top had two muscled arms crossed in front up it, the rest of the body completed with baggy white pants and black slipper-shoes.

"It's a chink!" one of the men said aloud, his eyes narrowing.

"Yo! Yous better be minding your own business, ass," the man with the guns said, pointing his weapon at the youth. "Now get outta hear before I cap ya."

The youth snorted. "Pathetic."

"Man, shoot his ass," the other man said.

The dark onyx eyes changed to red in an instant. The man with the gun suddenly yelped, the sound coming out like a scream as he dropped his gun, the weapon shimmering with a red hot glow.

In the next instant, the dark haired youth was right in front of the man, delivering a resounding punch into the man's gut, stealing his breath away in the next second. Jumping, the youth spun his body and landed a kick into the man's neck, breaking it and leaving the head at a ninety degree angle as he was flung away by the force of the blow.

Not giving the other man holding Relena a chance, the youth threw himself at him and leveled another kick, this time into the man's gut and forcing him away from Relena. As he stumbled back, leaning forward as he clutched his gut, Wufei smashed his palm into the man's jaw, shattering it and sending the man up into the air.

As the prone body landed a ways away, the youth turned his sights onto the large man still holding Dorothy who was staring at him in shock. Quickly, he let go of the blond and backed away, holding his hands up in a surrendering position.

"Okay," the large man said, fear evident in his voice. "I dig ya. You can keep these bitches."

"Weakling," the youth replied and was at the large man's throat in an instance. A swiping kick impacted the man's right cheek and several teeth spewed out from his mouth as his head snapped to a side.

Not done, the youth attacked again, throwing a barrage of punches into the man's body before roundhouse kicking him into the nearby overturned car that fell back onto its roof, the body of the man embedded in its underbelly.

The massacre was over before it had begun and by then Dorothy had gathered her wits about her, looking around to see that their attackers were out of commission. Looking up at her savior she gasped.

"Wufei?" she asked, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"Woman," Wufei replied back, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at her. "You should know better than to go wandering the streets this time of night."


	4. The Bet

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence

The Bet

Surrounded in darkness and watching a digital screen intently, the man known as Janus Xavien stroked his hairless chin in thought. He was fully aware of a string of robberies in recent days where someone was stealing some of his products from him. It wasn't as if he cared about the goods but the principle of it was urging him to retaliate.

However, instead of doing it in the usual manner, he had used the long ranged security cameras set up to watch the getaway truck escape. That's when things got interesting.

The truck had stopped and after zooming in and watching for a moment, he saw the long haired figure that had walked around the truck and set it up to be destroyed. It took him a minute or so but soon he recognized that that figure had been none other than #12093, the rogue weapon that he had been on the lookout for since the disaster in Los Angeles.

Of all the times to show up, it was stopping someone from robbing him. Fancy that. Still, now that he had an idea as to where the weapon was, he had to figure out just what his next move would be. He was beyond the point where he wanted the malfunctioning weapon back and was all set to have it destroyed.

There in lied the problem of going about that. Even while trying to capture the weapon, he had lost quite a few other ones and also there was the fact that 12093 was indestructible. It was a challenge and definitely one that Xavien wasn't going to back down from.

After the successes in Washington and the assassination of Romafellor, he would be the first to admit that his head was getting a bit big. But he was still giddy over those successes and now he was trying to focus his attention on figuring out how to eliminate this new yet old thorn in his side.

Unfortunately, that wasn't going quite well. It was obvious that he would have to employ more of his weapons to do the job but which should he select? He was tired of wasting resources as it was.

The door to his office hissed opened and in walked another pain in his ass, one that he had acquired sometime after 12093's malfunction.

"Oh goody," he spoke aloud, his voice laden with sarcasm, his different colored eyes snapping over to glare at the large framed man that was General Katsaris. "Is it that time of the day again? Sorry, but this is my 'me' time so if you would please come back later, I would be more than happy to keep you company then."

"Is that so?" Katsaris groused as he walked further into the room, sitting down in his customary seat. "Guess I'll just wait then. Don't mind me, I'll be quiet."

Xavien gritted his teeth together. This man was so infuriating! If only there was some way to get him out of his hair! He still needed Septum and to get rid of one of the General's confidants would harm him more than it would help.

Goddamn it.

"Didn't know you liked B movies," Katsaris commented, looking at the screen that Xavien had been studying only minutes before.

"I don't waste my time with that shit," Xavien shot back. "And for the record, that is not a movie. This is business, company business. Now be like an egg and beat it."

"Why should I?" Katsaris challenged. "I have nothing else to do and so far everything has been going according to plan in Washington. Don't think I haven't heard about your reputation before, Xavien. I'm not an idiot like Septum is and flashing me a shiny new toy isn't going to work on me."

_If only you were_, Xavien thought abidingly to himself. Growling to himself, he turned his attention back to the digital screen and glared at it, as if the fuzzy image of 12093 could give him all the answers he could ever need.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was one of your escaped weapons," Katsaris said dryly, also looking at the screen.

Gritting his teeth, Xavien growled out, "As a matter of fact, that is one of my weapons, thank you very much."

"Really?" Katsaris perked up. "So what dumbass plan that's going to backfire in your face are you going to do now?"

Not wanting to be reminded of past failures, Xavien shot a death glare at the oblivious general, a look that was more than likely ignored than anything. "I doubt that's any of your business, General," the different colored eyed man snarled.

"It might as well be with the way you've been going about it," Katsaris snorted.

"Oh? And you think you can do a better job?" Xavien shot back.

"Compared to what you've done before, yes," Katsaris said. "Hell, I could've wrapped this mess up a long time ago."

"And you haven't done so, why?" Xavien snarked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Orders to keep an eye on you," Katsaris replied. "Snake in the grass that you are, you'd probably try something the second I was wasn't here."

"Oh, that hurts my feelings so much," Xavien mock-lamented. "Why don't you just take your nose out of my business already? I have things I need to attend to and having to bother with you just wastes my precious time."

"Let me guess, you're going to form another team of weapons to go after that one," Katsaris said, pointing at the screen, "and have them all get slaughtered and lose more of them. If there was anything being wasted, that's it."

"And you could do so much better? Why don't you put your money where your mouth is?" Xavien countered.

"Money?" Katsaris perked up. "You mean a bet?"

Frowning slightly, the proverbial light bulb flashed in Xavien's mind. The corner of his lips quirked upwards and with an oiled sleaziness that would cover the entire Pacific Ocean, Xavien said, "Yes. A bet. I will bet you one million dollars that you can't kill that little menace on my screen."

The businessman could see the dollar signs flashing in Katsaris' eyes and he knew that he had found a weakness. It was all so simple and obvious now…

"Easy mil I ever made," Katsaris boasted. "How 'bout we up the anty?"

Smirking, Xavien said, "Alright, I'll make it ten."

"Fifty," Katsaris quipped.

Holding his hands up in a mock surrender, Xavien said, "Alright, fifty. But remember, if you don't succeed then it will be me who will be owed fifty million and I always collect."

"Then you wouldn't mind going handicapped," Katsaris suggested lightly.

Blinking, Xavien asked, "What?"

"If you're so sure that I can't do this, then how about lending me a couple of those weapons of yours?" Katsaris said. "No matter which way this goes, you'll still get something be it fifty mil or that kid's carcass."

"Hmm," Xavien pondered, leaning back into his chair. Looking at the argument from all angles, he shrugged. "Why not? Just be sure to bring them back, alive. Except for #12093, of course. As proof, you need to bring me back his severed head and then I'll pay you the money."

"Deal," Katsaris said, sticking his hand out to be shaken. Xavien reciprocated and Katsaris grinned wickedly back at him. "Don't get too comfortable," he threw over his shoulder as he walked out of the office. "I'll be back before you know it."

Xavien continued to watch the doorway Katsaris had left through for a few minutes, not moving from his seat or removing the contemplative look on his face. After judging a sufficient amount of time to have passed, he summoned his right hand man, Malkov.

"Yes Mr. Xavien?" the large man greeted in a deep rumble of a voice.

"There's been a change of plans, Malkov," Xavien said. "It seems as if the good General is going to make himself useful for once. However, I need you to make sure that he doesn't come back from this, if you know what I mean."

"Of course, Mr. Xavien," Malkov intoned, bowing his head and leaving.

Now that that was over, Xavien looked back at the screen with a new frame of mind. Looking down at a file on his desk, he smirked to himself. Seemed as if he had a few other loose ends to tie up, like the missing #15555 and #10615 weapons. He had already begun to take action on those so they held no consequence for now. Feeling giddy, he began to roll up a sleeve, preparing to take another dose of his youth serum. It had been some time since the last one…

---

"WHAT??!" a voice bellowed, soon followed by the sound of glass breaking.

Glaring at the images on a small TV, an average height, combed-back, shoulder length, black haired, green-eyed man seethed with fury. As the news reporter on the screen reported from the sight of a burned-out eighteen wheeler that was stranded in the middle of the road, the man let loose another scream of rage and threw a heavy paper weight at the appliance.

The noise of the television being destroyed attracted the attention of a crony but the man hurried away from his boss when said man sent a scowl in his direction.

Markus Troy had never really been a lucky man. Despite being blessed with an awe-inspiring intellect, he had never quite been able to make it big. For every success he ever had, there was a massive failure to match it, no matter if he was doing something legit or criminal. More often than not, he had turned towards a life of crime to fund his flamboyant lifestyles but lately he had been running out of money and needed another big score and quickly.

Seeing the results of said score did nothing to help his temper, though, which was lashing out frequently nowadays.

Troy liked living the good life and he like buying lots of expensive stuff. Both required a lot of money and right now that was something he didn't have a lot of and was running out of it. Damn it, he was planning on this score going through; why did he hire a bunch of idiots to do it in the first place?

If they weren't dead already, he'd kill them himself.

What was he going to do now? He had bills to pay, minions to give paychecks to, people to bribe…eh, _entice financially_, and stuff to buy that he would appreciate for the first couple of weeks then ignore them when the next new thing had caught his attention. He didn't have enough money to do all of that and he refused to give up the last one. So where was he going to get the money?

He was going to have to think rationally about this but damn it, why couldn't those morons not have screwed up so royally and put him into this mess!

Rubbing the back of his neck irritably, he sighed, "Guess I'm going to have traffic some drugs again. But where am I going to keep them? Fucking feds…"

Taking out a record book, he skimmed through all the financial data, stopping every now and then when he spotted the name of someone who owed him a favor or some money. He eliminated a few of these on the spot and thought about others before disregarding them until he came upon one name that held a lot of promise.

Slowly, his rage was channeled into cunning thought process and the man smiled arrogantly to himself. There was a lot of potential, oh yes, a lot of potential.

Picking up the phone, he dialed a number and waited patiently as he heard the ringing tone before someone answered.

"Tell me Frank, when's that next shipment of yours coming in?" Troy inquired, a plan forming in his head all the while.


	5. Shopping

Author's Note: Kudos to those who recognize ol' Markus Troy in the last chapter. His sorry ass finally has its shot at glory but you can all probably guess how that's gonna turn out. Now that the plot is getting set up, it's time to introduce a couple more familiar faces, ones that I bet you'll be surprised to see. One more thing, check out the little bit of information at the bottom. Learn all about it in psychology of human sexuality. Also the format that it is presented in is not of my creation and I absolve anything and everything that might get me sued for copyright infringement right here and now. Now without further ado, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence

Shopping

Regaining memories, and control of your body, as Duo found out was time consuming and made one really, really hungry. So that was on the top of his list of things to do and to do that, he was going to have to get up and walk around.

That was when he ran into his first problem: the moment he got to his feet, he almost lost his balance by leaning too far ahead. While trying to regain his balance, he ended up falling back onto his ass and man did that suck. What the hell was up with him? Eh, probably just a freak accident. He'd do it the next time.

Except he didn't. He kept falling over, his equilibrium disrupted so severely that he couldn't stand straight up. If memory served him correctly, which he wasn't going to trust right away, he recalled having something heavy pulling his head back. Those same memories revealed that he once had long hair and he snorted at that.

Why the hell did he have long hair? It made him look like a fucking girl! Then again, he did keep it braided all the time so maybe that made him look more manly? Whatever, as long as it would help.

Hovering his hands inches from the back of his head, he began to speed up time on his hair and slowly, but surely, it began to grow. Weight pulled his head back and muscles readjusted to it automatically. Okay, so maybe this had been a good idea after all. Still there was one last thing to do. His hands now dancing in a patterned that they clearly remembered, he braided the hair back into the same one he saw in his head. Tearing a piece of his raggedy clothing off, he tied the braid off and all was suddenly right with the world.

This time when he got back up to his feet, he had his balance but his legs were still wobbly, as if he hadn't used them in quite some time. At least he wasn't falling back onto his ass though.

Fiddling with the end of his newly made braid, he began his search for food, making his way off the beach that he found himself at and heading to a nearby boardwalk that promised at least something he could stomach.

As luck would have it, he found nothing, zilch, nada. Well wasn't that a bitch? Someone got to all the good stuff first! Goddamn it!

What happened next may have been a lack of control on his part but a spurt of frozen time erupted from him and blew half the boardwalk to pieces. Unfortunately for Duo, the boardwalk just had to be over the ocean and since it had been some time since he had used his powers, he wasn't able to stop himself from receiving a soaking.

Emerging from the salty water, looking more like a drowned bird than human, the braided one made a mental note to get something dry to wear once he filled his stomach.

Man, this was not cool…

About an hour later found him raiding the remains of some kind of grocery store. Looters had already gotten to the good stuff here but he managed to dig something out of it and feed his gullet some nourishment. It was mainly candy but hey, beggars couldn't be choosers.

Having at least done some damage to his hunger, he left the remains of the supermarket and pondered where to go next. Having noticed a large-ass tree in the distance and also noting that the closer he got to it, the worse his surroundings got and he figured that he ought not go any closer. If looking for better clothes was going to be anything like his search for food…sheesh…

So what? It wasn't that he was particularly picky about what he wore but even he had to admit that what he was wearing wasn't the best thing he should wear.

Suddenly, an idea popped up in his mind. At first it seemed like the perfect idea but a second later he almost discarded it from the sheer ridiculousness of it. Since he didn't have anything better going on, he looked at this stupid idea again. It was a little extreme in trying to accomplish what he was trying to do…but hey, did he have anything else better to do?

Man this was a dumb idea…

Tentatively, he reached into the vast well of power within him, handling it carefully as if it would blow up in his face at any moment. However, the power began to flow throughout him, taking old worn paths that hadn't been used in such a long time, and he felt strong, confident even.

Freezing the time about him, he shut his eyes to concentrate further and then warped away.

---

And just like that, he was somewhere else. Duo opened his eyes and widened them further at the darkness he found himself in, his vision slowly adjusting to accommodate. This was crazy, he knew it, but desperate times…eh, so times weren't really that desperate.

He hadn't taken a step when he ran right into…something and stubbed his toe.

Son of a bitch! That hurt! A blast of frozen time, this time on purpose, sent the obstacle away and the braided one was appeased. Ignoring the ruckus that resulted, including the burglar alarm (now how did he know what one of those were?), he began to poke around the piles of discarded shoes and boots that littered the place, a result from his previous lash-out.

A couple of minutes passed, Duo searching subconsciously for something that he just couldn't find. He didn't know exactly what he was looking for but he was determined to find it. At last, he found a pair of black boots and something clinked in his mind.

_Bingo_.

At that time, two burly men dressed in cop uniforms were approaching the entrance of the store he was in but Duo paid no mind as he warped away again.

A bit tired from the strain this time, Duo immediately got to work searching for the next item that was to be a part of his assemble. Even from where he was, he could hear the alarm from the previous store he had raided but none of that was important as his eyes caught sight of a pair of black cargo pants and he snatched them up immediately.

Even now, he still had no clue why he was grabbing what he was taking but he had something on his mind and he was determined to fulfill it.

However, the next part of his vision wasn't going to be so easy to obtain. But he did know where to go to find it.

The next warp was more exhausting than the last and he was gasping when finished but he had arrived where he wanted to be. The room he now found himself in was pitch black, darker than any of the other places he had been in but his memory served as a map that allowed him to navigate this place.

Bumping cautiously into a door, he opened it and smirked at what he found inside.

Minutes later, the braided one had a guest arrive, the entrance to the room opening and a large man entering, turning on the lights and blinking at the sight he saw before him. Lucking for Duo, he was dressed now and he smirked at the man before him before warping away again, not giving the man time to say anything.

Of course, there was nothing that Father Maxwell could say in the first place at the sight of seeing the missing Duo in a shrunken version of his priest uniform.

---

She wasn't the biggest person she knew; hell she was probably the smallest around and for some reason that irked her a bit. However, for Hilde Schbeiker, it was just something to try and use to her advantage.

As of right now, she was trying to use her diminutive size to try and sneak past a convenience store clerk, her arms holding onto a stash of stolen goods, or at least some stuff that she hoped to steal real soon. The clerk seemed to be too preoccupied in his boredom to be paying attention to anything around him but Hilde was an experienced enough thief not to trust appearances.

With light blue eyes that eyed the one obstacle between her and freedom, she retained her little hiding spot out of sight, slowly creeping closer and closer to the only exit in sight.

"Are ya gonna pay for that or what?" the clerk suddenly spoke up, not even looking at her.

Well, shit. There went that problem. Oh well, time to fall back on plan B.

She ran for it, heading to the door.

"Hey!" the clerk yelled, finally showing some emotion other than utter boredom.

"Shit!" Hilde swore to herself, speeding up to try and make it to the door. It seemed luck was on her side today as someone was opening the door to enter. Now, if she could just make it through the door and past the poor schmuck in her way, she'd be home free!

Then her luck ran out as she ran through the door only to run into what felt like a brick wall. She fell onto her ass, dropping everything that was still in her arms.

"Thanks pal!" the clerk greeted, coming up behind the girl. "I owe ya for this."

Looking up, Hilde found herself being dwarfed by this enormous, long-haired, blond guy whose green eyes were taking in the scene almost owlishly. She groaned to herself as the pretty boy took in her and her stuff before looking up at the clerk. The jerk who had been behind the cash register grabbed her by her shoulder and forced her up onto her feet unkindly and she winced a bit in pain.

The next thing was unexpected as the blond pretty boy's fist popped the clerk in the middle of his face and sent him flying back across the store, his body slumping on the store floor.

Eyes wide in shock, Hilde watched the muscles in the blond's bare arm relax and compress as he lowered said arm, his green eyes looking down at her with…pity?

"Ya know," the blond drawled, "for a thief, you suck."

Bristling, Hilde shot back, "I'd like to see you do better!"

The blond snorted. "I know I coulda done better. Hell, I coulda taken half the stuff in the place and that idiot over there wouldn't have known it. Now why don't'cha get your crap and take off? I'll see ya 'round."

Frowning, Hilde looked back at the unconscious store clerk and then back at the blond, the situation finally dawning on her. "Wait a minute, why are you helping me?" she demanded.

The blond shrugged. "Know what it's like."

And that was it. Very cryptic wasn't he? Like how the feeling of running into him felt like running into a brick wall, Hilde had the feeling that talking with him would be the same thing. And what was worse was that now she owed him for helping her out.

Sighing, she crouched down and began gathering her stolen treats. "You have a place to stay?"

"Huh?" the blond blinked, staring down at her.

"You helped me out," she shrugged. "Least I can do is offer ya place to stay the night."

The blond blinked again but got a thoughtful look on his face. "Ya know, that don't sound half bad."

Standing back up, she said, "Then follow me."

"Hold on a sec," the blond said, entering the convenience store, heading for the smaller freezer that held an assortment of ice cream. With a display of strength, he pushed his hand through the Plexiglas cover, shattering it and pulling out a couple sticks of ice cream. Unwrapping one and sticking it in his mouth, he said in a muffled voice, "'ead da ay."

"Gross," Hilde wrinkled her nose.

Pulling out the ice cream, the blond said, "We goin' or what?"

"Yeah, yeah," Hilde grumbled and headed out. "I'm just here to serve your every need, whatever your name is."

"Solo," the blond spoke up, after pulling the ice cream out of his mouth.

"What?" Hilde blinked.

"Name's Solo, little girl," Solo said, smirking down at her.

"Name's Hilde, not 'little girl,'" Hilde snarked back.

The newly named Solo only chuckled back.

---

The strain of old muscles pulled taunt, the stench of sweat and fossil fuels mixed together, the feel of said fossil fuels coating old, wrinkled skin…

That was the life.

Sliding himself out from underneath the broken down truck he was working on, the old, balding man known to everyone only as Howard relinquished the wrench in his hands into a nearby tool box and searching for a pair of pliers.

Finding what he was looking for, he slid back underneath the truck and reached his hands back up with pliers in hand, connecting the wires to the new battery he had just installed. He was sure that this time he was going to get this hunk of junk running and nothing was going to get in his way, no sirree!

Finishing up, he pulled his hands and pliers down just as he heard the sound of feet scraping against the concrete floor of his garage. Rolling his eyes behind his goggles, he spoke up in a loud, raspy voice, "That you Hilde?"

"Yeah, it's me," the girl answered in a bored tone of voice. Hearing the sound of a bag creaking as if being shifted around, Howard frowned.

"You didn't go off robbing convenience stores again, did you?" he asked. When he got not answer, he spoke up again, stating, "You did, didn't you."

"What are you, some kind of mindreader?" the girl complained, kicking the front bumper of the truck.

Now, Howard didn't have the best type of equipment to be working with and that included the carjack he had propping the truck up in the first place. The shock of Hilde's kick jostled the truck up enough that the jack lost its tentative hold and fell out. Howard's eyes bulged out as the underbelly of the truck began to have an intimate meeting with his face when it stopped as suddenly as it begun. Then, strangely enough, the truck actually moved away from him, providing him with more than enough space to get out of his predicament.

A little shaken by the near death experience, he dragged himself out from under the truck as quickly as he could, scrambling up to his feet as fast as his old body would allow and shot a menacing glare at the contrite girl whose arms were loaded with stolen snacks.

"How many times have I told you not to do that!" he reprimanded the girl.

"Sorry," the girl mumbled, ashamed.

Noticing the figure behind the girl, he was about to verbally lash again when he noticed the long-haired blond person holding onto the end of the truck with one hand and the other holding an ice cream bar in his mouth. Now, Howard wasn't one to be struck speechless but seeing as how this truck was really old and really heavy, the fact that this stranger was holding it up with one hand and showing no strain whatsoever just took the wind out of his sails.

Getting a hold of his tongue, he asked, "Can I help you stranger?"

The blond young man just shrugged his broad shoulders and put the truck back down, standing back up to his full height and towering over both him and Hilde. Pulling the sucked-clean ice cream stick out of his mouth, the blond flicked the piece of wood away where it landed in a trash can on the other side of the garage.

"Girl here said I could spend the night," he shrugged. "Said she owed me one."

"She owes you several," Howard replied wryly, looking back down at said girl. "Go inside Hilde, I'll deal with you later."

"Yes Howard," Hilde mumbled and began to head out of the garage and out towards the house beyond only to be stopped one last time.

"Hilde," Howards said.

Sighing, Hilde walked over to a nearby desk and dumped all her stolen snacks before resuming her death march back to the house.

"Got her wrapped around ya finger, huh?" the blond commented, watching the whole thing.

"She knows her place," Howards replied. "At least she should."

"Ya don't beat her or nothin'," the blond questioned, giving the old man a look.

In response, he burst out in laughter. "Heavens no!" Howard guffawed. "I'd never do something like that! Where'd you get that idea anyway?"

Shrugging again, the blond put his hands in his pants pockets. "Never know what goes on 'hind closed doors," he answered.

"Very true," Howard conceded, getting control over his laughter but still letting a chuckle or two escape him. "How about you come on inside? You certainly saved my ass back there. Not that it would've made a difference but it was gracious of you nonetheless."

"If I had known ya were an old fart, I wouldn't have caught the truck," the blond retorted goodheartedly.

Getting another guffaw of laughter, Howard wiped away a tear and said, "Good one, kiddo. Very good one."

* * *

Did You Know That: A Septum is the lining that separates a male's scrotum into right and left halves? Chances are high you never had a clue until just now. While you're reflecting on this trivial piece of information, recall the name of one of the characters in this story…

Now You Know…


	6. No Longer Safe

Author's Note: Another couple OCs are introduced, one of which belongs to shinigamiinochi, and some new familiar faces. Who they are, you'll just have to wait and find out. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing and I do not own shinigamiinochi's Asmodai.

Warning: language, violence, death

No Longer Safe

Night, a natural darkness that sent many a person into their homes to hide and wait for the pleasant rays of the sun, something that man has had fear of for millennia.

For Abdul, the chill of night held no fear to him. But then again, growing up in the middle of nowhere as an Arabian man would have some sort of impact on someone, wouldn't it?

Being a part of the Maguanac Corps, the small mercenary army that worked for the up and coming Quatre Winner was a grand honor, one that someone like Abdul could hardly pass up. Like the rest of the Maguanacs, he held utterly loyalty to the young man and would do anything the blond ordered.

However, playing guard duty in the middle of nowhere at night was not something that he had expected to do. Sure, he expected to get his hands dirty like all the other men he fought with and that he would be part of the sentries that watched over the others. However, he had been hearing rumors of some sort of weapon that was inside the complex that he was helping to guard and he had never expected to guard a _weapon_ of all things.

If it was something that killed people, wouldn't it have been better to use it instead of guarding it? Sometimes young Master Quatre confused this humble Arabian servant…

Taking off dark spectacles that he was never known to be without, he cleaned the lens and put them back on and resumed his patrol. Wearing shades in the middle of night made no sense whatsoever but Abdul loved these pair too much to just not wear them.

A light giggle suddenly caught his attention and he raised his semi-assault rifle up and whipped around, searching for the source of the noise. Finding nothing, he could've sworn that he had heard some kid laughing just now. Was he getting too paranoid or something?

Lowering his gun, he slowly turned around and began to resume his patrol one more time but froze in his tracks at the sight of a small, dark-clad boy who was smiling up at him charmingly. Reflexively, he raised his gun up but hurriedly lowered it, not wanting to hurt the boy.

"Allah, kid!" he blurted out. "What do you think you're doing up so late and here of all places? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

The boy flicked strands of blond hair out of his face and picked up a lute that had been leaning up against his leg. Abdul blinked, wondering how he had missed such a shiny object in the first place.

"Sorry, mister," the boy said, looking ashamed. "We were just passing by. We didn't mean any harm."

"We?" Abdul repeated. Hearing footsteps behind him, he spun around and saw two other boys, both dressed in dark, skin tight suits.

One of these new comers was tall, taller than the other two with straight black hair that seemed to have blue highlights in them and dark skin, the hints of tattoos barely extending out from the uniform's collar and a single white-lined scar on one of his cheeks. His blue eyes were deep and knowledgeable, something that unnerved the Arabian Maguanac.

The other boy was shorter but definitely taller than the first boy he had seen. This one was had lightly tanned skin with a face that still held baby fat on it, mischievous silver eyes and spiky black hair that made him look as if he had just gotten out of bed.

"What is—" Abdul began to demand before he was cut off by a reinforced lute slamming into his head, said head caving it and blood splattering from the blow. As the lute was pried from what remained of his head, his body collapsed onto the unforgiving ground, dark spectacles lying broken next to his feet.

Not even bothered by the sight, Stone Sunbeam turned his bright green eyes onto his fellow teammates and said, "Oops."

A snort came from the tallest of the three while the other chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest.

The lightheartedness in Stone's green eyes soon faded and hardened. "Asmodai. Wolf. You know what to do."

"Of course," Wolf, the second tallest, replied. Asmodai beside him nodded his head.

Hefting his instrument onto his shoulder, Stone grinned cheekily. "Then let's get to work boys."

---

Something wasn't right. He could feel it in the air. However, that didn't mean he was jumping up from where he continued to lay on his cot.

In fact, Jason was only beginning to ponder why it had taken so long for this to happen. Sure his abilities to manipulate the wind and air around him were limited due to the close quarters he was in but by extending his senses, he could feel the familiar presences of some old pals.

Of course, the reunion would be anything but joyous. Jason had no doubt in his mind why his old comrades were here. Either they were going to kill him here or they were going to bring him back to the base where ol' two-eyes was going to go to work on him then kill him. It was a lose-lose no matter what way he looked at it but fortunately for him, he still had an ace up his sleeve.

He wasn't stupid. He had been preparing for this for quite some time. He didn't know how long he'd been planning because he couldn't tell if it was night or day in this place. He was willing to put his money on the fact it was daylight since, in his prior experiences, teams were sent out in broad daylight. The circus was the one exception to that one but he hardly remembered that since he had been drunk out of his mind at the time.

Spreading out his awareness through the air, he pinpointed one of the three presences was close by and he sat up on his cot, ready to do what he had to do.

He blinked at the sudden splatter of blood on the small window in the metal door that was the entrance to his cell but he was in no way surprised. However, hearing a musical tone in the air did catch him off guard.

The door to his cell trembled and warped before it began to roll in on itself like a sardine lid. Hearing the music on the other side come to an end, all question as to who it was ended and Jason had to admit that this was completely unexpected.

As Stone casually walked through the doorway, splatters of blood covering him and his uniform, Jason remained where he was sitting and snorted.

"He sent _you_?"

Stone blinked, curious. "Why is that surprising?" he asked.

Jason chose not to answer that. Instead, he stated, "You're here to take me back, aren't you?"

"Yep!" Stone chirped. "Don't make this harder than it has to be and I'll put in a good word for ya. Promise."

Jason sighed. "I'm not going back. Both you and I know what's going to happen to me."

"Not my problem," Stone shrugged. "You should've done what you were supposed to do in the first place. Your fault you screwed up."

"You wouldn't've lasted a minute against those two," Jason snapped. "You're not as tough as you think you are."

"Guess we're doing this the hard way, huh?" Stone shrugged. Settling his lute into his hands, he strummed the strings, already prepared to lash out with his psionic powers. However there was no beautiful sound and the blond frowned at that. Looking down at his lute, he strummed the strings again just to get the same results. A couple more times of doing this without any change, his eyes widened as he came to a realization.

The strings…they weren't vibrating! But how?

A blast of wind whipped around him and stole the lute out of his hands. Stone found himself hovering up in the air unable to move but he wasn't out of tricks yet. Opening his mouth to at least sing or make a whistle, he felt the air in his body stop.

With eyes that were fully green and giving off a greenish glow, Jason smirked. "Can't make a sound without a little air, can you?"

Stone glared as best as he could at the moment.

"I'm not going back," Jason stated, all humor in his voice gone. "I don't care what I have to do to do it and if that means killing you…"

Jason trailed off, going straight for the killing blow. The air around Stone spun around him, making the trapped boy spin like a top, increasing speed until he was a spinning black blur hovering in midair. Soon that blackness was replaced by red as Stone was shredded and ripped into pieces.

Calling off his wind, Jason gazed dispassionately as a Stone's torn remains splattered onto the floor of his cell.

Gathering the wind around him, Jason then made his escape as he tore his cell apart and blasted straight up through the upper floors and into the night sky.

Son of a bitch! These assholes came at night! If he had actually had any money and betted it, he would've lost it all! Motherfuckers!

---

It was a misty dawn that met the rebel camp outside of the fallen capital and Keppel remained in his tent, looking over maps and reports, trying to plan what his next move would be. It had been quite some time since he had been forced to tough it out like this but instead of finding himself creaking and groaning, he was invigorated, full of energy that he had to get rid of yet there just didn't seem to be enough time in the day…

Of course, that energy could have been coming from his mug of coffee which he took another sip from, letting the hot, steamy liquid flow down his throat and give him the added boost of caffeine. Setting the mug aside, he fixed his reading glasses as he focused more on the report in his hands, trying to piece together his spies had reported to him with that of previous information received.

It wasn't an easy job but he wanted to make an informed decision this time around and not some half-assed guess. How'd he get to be a general again? This wasn't his forte…

He heard the sound of grass being crushed underneath boot heels and the louder the sound became, the more certain the General was that he was about to have company. He didn't even bother to look up as one of his subordinates lifted up the tent flap and peered in at him.

"General, there are two officers here who want to speak to you," the subordinate announced.

"Who are they?" Keppel asked, still not looking up.

"You might want to see for yourself," the subordinate answered hesitantly, causing Keppel to frown.

His day was just getting better and better, wasn't it?

"Send them in," he sighed, taking his reading glasses off and rubbing his eyes.

"Are you sure, sir?" the subordinate questioned.

"Fine," Keppel said, "I'll come out, just hold onto them for a minute."

"Yes sir!" the subordinate saluted and backed out of the tent.

Letting his head droop a bit as he sighed, the General pushed himself up to his feet and grabbed his officer's jacket, putting it on but not buttoning it. Putting his military hat on, he straightened his shoulders and strolled out of his tent, prepared to face what lurked just outside of it.

"What are you two doing here?" he inquired the moment he caught sight of the two officers that had questioned his presence, raising an eyebrow in question.

Before him stood a tall man and a tall woman but that was all the similarity they both shared. The man had long, platinum blond hair that he kept in a loose pony tail that hung over a broad back. Ice blue eyes stared out dispassionately from an incredibly chiseled and handsome face that held strong features that spoke of nobility. The woman, on the other hand, had short black-purple hair and gentle yet stern brown eyes. Keppel was sure that if she smiled, it would make her very beautiful but apparently she was here on business.

Nonetheless, he recognized these two alright. Lieutenant Zechs Merquise and Lieutenant Lucrieza Noin, two officers associated with the popular Colonel Trieze Khushrenada, a man that Keppel had never felt comfortable being around. He knew about the Colonel's connections to The Big Three, knew of the political games he played, and he also knew of the Colonel's conspicuous absence during the whole coup d' tat.

Either Trieze was AWOL or he had betrayed them all to Septum and Xavien. He was more partial towards the latter than he was the former.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, General," Noin said, saluting him. Beside her, Zechs copied the salute, remaining his ever stoic self.

Sighing, Keppel saluted back and replied, "At ease." The two junior officers lowered their arms and put them behind their backs, settling their bodies in a more relaxed position that the previously stiff, military one. Not wanting to deal with pleasantries, Keppel cut straight to the chase. "What are you two doing here?"

Zechs and Noin blinked at him caught off guard. "How do you mean?" Noin asked cautiously.

"Did Trieze send you or not?" Keppel asked bluntly.

A small smile quirked at Zechs' lips. "You don't mess around, do you General?"

"Only when I have the time, Lieutenant," Keppel retorted. "Unfortunately, circumstances have left me in rather foul mood so I hope you will excuse any rudeness from me. Right now, I have a country that needs to be defended so if you can spare the chitchat, I would greatly appreciate it."

Zechs allowed the small smile to overtake his lips. "Very well, General. We're here to help you."

This time it was Keppel's turn to blink. "Excuse me?"

"What Lieutenant Merquise is saying is that we are here to assist you," Noin clarified.

Keppel's eyes narrowed. "Help me, eh? How can I be so sure? I know for a fact that Colonel Khushrenada has had dealings with the Winners, Romafellor, and Xavien and I also know that he is somehow involved with what has happened in Washington. I don't know what he's up to but for all I know, you could be here to prevent me from starting an uprising against Septum. No offense, but what makes you think I can trust you or Khushrenada?"

"None taken," Zechs answered. "However, I hope you understand that Trieze…Colonel Khushrenada deeply regrets his part in what has happened and wishes to atone for it. He's willing to not only be your eyes and ears in the capital but he is also willing to lay his own life on the line to fix this mess."

"Despite the fact he was one of the ones who caused it," Keppel groused. Eyeing the two officers, he said, "Hearing this from your mouths doesn't change anything, I hope you understand. In these uncertain times, trust is a necessity and I have been given no reason to trust Khushrenada, not now nor in the past."

"Please General," Noin began.

"Let me finish," Keppel interrupted. "However, you two have not given me a reason not to trust you other than associate with Khushrenada. I do not have a lot of resources at my command and Septum holds all the cards. I'll take what I can get but I'm going to keep a close eye on you two until I can be sure that you are sincere. That is, of course, I'll accept your help as long as your offer is coming from you and not your commanding officer."

"You drive a hard bargain, General," Zechs commented.

"It's practical," Keppel replied. "So what's it going to be?"

"I guess then, we should be asking if you are willing to accept our help?" Noin asked, a small smile on her lips.

"Yours or Khushrenada's?" Keppel inquired.

"Ours," Zechs stated.

"Then welcome aboard," Keppel said, losing the hard tone in his voice. "Find Major Sellick and he'll get you set up. Report back here at twelve hundred hours for conference and be sure to bring ideas with you. Consider us at war with Washington and General Septum until further notice."

Saluting him, the junior officers said, "Yes sir."

---

"He's a smart man."

Noin looked up at her elder, raising an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?" she asked. "I thought he was a bit standoffish. The nerve of him questioning Trieze's integrity…"

"As he should do," Zechs replied. "Trieze's dug himself into a hole and I admit that I'm surprised that Keppel knows as much as he does. By all rights, he should be questioning every single person that comes here offering him assistance."

"Why?" Noin questioned, frowning.

"Because, as he put it, we are 'at war'. Once Septum learns of Keppel's defection, he will most certainly try and stop it," Zechs explained. "For all he knows, we could be spies for Septum."

"But that's absurd!" Noin exclaimed.

"But practical," Zechs said. "I have a feeling we are about to witness the most epic fight for our freedom since the Revolutionary War, Lu. It'll be most interesting to see what happens."


	7. Flashback

Author's Note: Even wonder what happened with Wufei after he suddenly "vanished" in The Maxwell Progeny? Well, wonder no more! Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or shinigamiinochi's Uriel and Samayaza.

Warning: language, violence, death

Flashback

A perk of being able to control temperature was that there was no need for manmade appliances like heaters and ACs. Keeping his onyx eyes trained onto the view from the broken window of the building he was staying in, Wufei prevented the chill of night from entering, heating the shelter so that it was more than comfortable for him and his guests. It would be dawn in a couple of hours so it wouldn't be long before they could leave.

Those two females had been acting like imbeciles, in his opinion. What had possessed them to venture out into the ruined city in the dark of night in the first place? What were they even doing in the city anyway? All it served was to solidify his belief that women were inferior to men and should remain in the home taking care of domestic duties.

It was to protect them not just from the outside world but from themselves as well.

In fact, it had been mere luck that he happened to be nearby. Having heard about the disaster in Los Angeles, Wufei had trekked to see the sight and was awed at the sight he found. He had a feeling that the one he knew as Trowa was involved with this and it must have used an incredible amount of power to do.

The question that remained, though, was why did Trowa do this in the first place? Thinking back to his own experiences, he had a good idea about the why.

"Hello! I'm talking to you! Answer me already!"

He stifled a growl; people skills had never been his forte…

"Yes?" he said, struggling to keep what he thought was a pleasant tone but he sounded more as if he was about to lose his temper.

The blonde girl with the eyebrows, Dorothy, was busy glaring at him, as if ignoring her was some great crime. "I asked you a question, Wufei," she stated.

Sighing, he said, "I apologize but I was not paying attention. I was just making sure that no one was going to attack or ambush us and rape you and your friend but if your question is so important, please don't hesitate to ask me it again."

There. That was a good enough explanation, right?

Dorothy narrowed her eyes. "You don't like me, do you?"

"Whatever gave you that idea?" he quipped, rolling his eyes.

"Dorothy, calm down," spoke the other blonde, a girl whom Wufei had yet to get a name from. He probably had but just didn't remember. It wasn't as if her name was important in the first place if he couldn't recall it.

"No Relena," Dorothy said, "he's being very rude, he's been rude, and he shouldn't be ignoring us like we don't exist. We're people too!"

Yeah right, Wufei rolled his eyes.

"But he's protecting us," the blonde girl, Relena (or was it Rihana?), argued. "He's making sure we aren't attacked again and he's helping us. He's doesn't have to answer any questions if he doesn't want to."

Ah, that sweet sounding voice. Wufei felt he could close his eyes and be lulled into slumber by listening to it. At least this female knew her place unlike someone else he could mention.

"Relena!" Dorothy groaned. "Show some solidarity, c'mon!"

"Can you just stop it Dorothy!" Relena suddenly snapped at her friend, showing some backbone in Wufei's opinion. "He's not Solo so just can it for awhile, okay?!"

Wufei frowned. They knew Solo? Maybe this was going to be easier than he thought…

"Did you say 'Solo'? As in someone's name?" he inquired, turning his head around just enough so he could see the girl from the corner of his eye.

"Oh what, you want a rematch with him or something?" Dorothy growled as she plopped down next to Relena, not looking pleased at all. Whether it was with him or with her friend was up for question.

"A rematch?" Relena questioned, looking confused.

"That is irrelevant," Wufei intervened. "No, I am not here for a 'rematch.' I'm seeking Solo out for a different reason, so if you would please tell me what you know about his whereabouts, I would greatly appreciate it."

"I'm afraid we don't know where he is," Relena answered apologetically.

"Relena!" Dorothy reprimanded.

Ignoring Dorothy, Relena continued, "He left us here all alone and we haven't heard from him since."

"He left you…_here_," Wufei frowned. How dishonorable! How could that moron do something like that? The audacity, the inhumanity, the predictability of it! Why wasn't he more surprised?! For some reason, he could see that nearly insane blond actually doing something like that. If he didn't need him so much, he'd kill him for that.

"Yeah, he did," Dorothy huffed, crossing her arms.

Dropping the subject with a muttered curse (spoken in Chinese, of course), he replied instead, "I'm sorry you had to go through all that. It's not easy for you to be weak females staying in a horrific place like this."

In return, he received two vicious glares from both of the girls. Hey, he was just being honest! They should be grateful that he was giving up his own time to actually protect them. Women. Pfft! Such ungrateful little creatures…

"If I didn't feel like I owed you something, I'd scratch your eyes out for that," Dorothy hissed, looking quite feral in this Chinaman's opinion.

With a "hmpt," he pointedly looked away from the seething females and refocused all of his attention back to the outside world. The things he did out of chivalry…

"Where are you taking us anyway?" Dorothy finally spoke up, speaking a pretty reasonable question. "You're not gonna ditch us, are you?"

"I have more honor than that," Wufei huffed. "I'm taking you to my uncle's. He'll know what to do with you."

"Your uncle?" Dorothy repeated.

"Yes, he was the first to tell me of what was going on here," Wufei replied. "He knows quite a bit of the going-ons happening in this world and was the one to explain how I got involved in all of this."

"Were you kidnapped?" Dorothy asked, the heat in her voice lowering as curiosity began to overtake her.

"Not exactly," he replied.

---

_A few days earlier…_

Making his way towards the Californian coast, specifically the San Francisco Bay area, Wufei found that his trip was very uneventful. That was sat just right with him. He didn't think he would be able to take it if he had been actively pursued by XAI like Solo was. Odds were they thought he was dead and he preferred to keep it that way.

Why was he heading so far north and west in the first place? The answer was simple; just outside of the Coyote Hills Regional Park, near Union City, was a large plot of land that belonged to an uncle of his, his favorite uncle in fact. If there was anybody he could put unconditional trust in during these times, his Uncle Xihong Deng was just the person to go to.

To be honest, though, he had already contacted his uncle via a payphone and the elder had wired him enough money to buy a bus ticket. Greyhound was the way to go in these parts so that more than definitely cut his travel time from days of walking to hours of riding. He didn't enjoy the company he had to keep along the way and he was tempted to call upon his powers to get his valued peace and quiet but he held back.

Unlike certain others, he had self-disciplene.

It was in the early morning hours when the sun had just rose over the horizon and fog from the Bay had billowed over the land when he arrived at his Uncle's. While his Uncle's home wasn't as large as the main family's estate, it was still in the range of being called a mansion. No matter his attempts to try and live like an average middle class man, Wufei's father refused such a thing for his younger brother.

The Chinese youth had been still in the middle of the driveway and approaching the front porch when the front door opened unbiddenly to reveal none other than Xihong Deng himself.

A small man with ink black hair that was just starting to bald and dark eyes that captured the Chinese youth, freezing him in his tracks, Deng Xihong was not the most awe inspiring person you could find. The unintimidating man comically dressed in his nightwear had a smile on his face and he motioned with a hand for his nephew to come, a request that Wufei did not deny.

Though only about an inch taller than Deng, Wufei wrapped his arms around his uncle in a bear hug, the smaller man reciprocating with an equal amount of strength that his small body hid quite well. There was no need for words, at first, as both Chinese Americans embraced one another as if they hadn't seen the other in years.

However, such was the case in this instance as Deng led his nephew into his home, closing the door behind them and heading for a nearby living room.

"My how you've grown," Deng commented as they each took a seat on the same couch. "You're taller than me now!"

"I know," Wufei said, grinning easily. He had never needed to be formal with this man and Deng had always been the easiest person he could talk to. "It's felt like an age has passed since we last…"

"…saw each other?" Deng finished, his smile smaller but not gone. "Yes, it's been what, three, four years? That's an awfully long time not to speak with your uncle now, you know."

"If I could have, I would have, but I couldn't," he explained. "Where I was…"

Seeing how his nephew trailed off, Deng urged him to continue. "Go on."

"Sorry," Wufei said apologetically. "I still haven't really gotten over it."

This time having a frown mar his face, Deng leaned on closer, cupping his hands on Wufei's cheeks and looking deeply into his eyes. Minutes seemed to tick by and with every one that did, Wufei became more and more nervous. Had he alienated his uncle?

The answering sorrow in the older man's eyes, however, contradicted that. It was as if he had seen everything that Wufei had experienced yet at the same time he had no idea as to what had gone on. He did say, though, "What did they do to you?"

"I don't think I'm ready to say," Wufei sighed, looking away from his uncle shamefully. What could he say to this man, this beloved relative of whom he held in high esteem? There wasn't anything that he could do about; it had already been done and there was no known way to reverse it.

Looking at his nephew, Deng said beseechingly, "If there was something I could do, something to help you, you would tell me, wouldn't you?"

Not used to hearing this tone from his uncle, Wufei was quick to reply, "Of course! It's just things are so jumbled right now…"

In response, Deng smiled at him. "As long as we're on the same page then. Is there something I can get you? Tea? Snacks?"

---

The next couple of days were blurry, as if he was in the midst of a dream. It had been so long since Wufei had felt as comfortable as he was right here and now.

Despite being just a short amount of time, he had fallen into a routine of sorts: get up early and practice some katas with his uncle, have a light breakfast, go to the library and read, break for lunch, nap or meditate (he hadn't decided which he wanted to do a permanent basis), practice a few more katas, read again, break for the evening meal, and the rest of his time would be spent in the simple company of his uncle until he decided to retire for the night.

For hours on end, he would just chat with his uncle over the most mundane of topics and to those who knew the Chinese youth, he seemed like a completely different person. Chuckles and smiles that were rarely seen on his face made common appearances, small jokes that normally got a scowl out of him instead tricked bouts of laughter out.

He had always been the most comfortable here that he wondered why he hadn't spent more time here than back at the family's estate. Immediately after that thought, the sobering answer of honor and duty to the family would pop up in his mind and for a minute, he would look morose before shaking the feelings off.

However, it was quite interesting to hear about the exploits and his father and Deng would get into when they were younger. To Wufei, his father had always been a no-nonsense, strict, and disciplined man, not a mischievous boy who would remove "wet floor" signs and laugh at the sight of hurried passerbys who would slip on the wet floor and fall onto their rear ends. Deng would always lament on the change in his elder brother who he believed was much too serious for his own good.

It was during one of these fondly recalled tales that Deng slipped up and mentioned that his father had a gambling habit of sorts. It was the first that Wufei had ever heard of such a thing and after some more coaxing he was able to get more details.

It was a wonder that the Chang family had yet to file for bankruptcy. How had his father been able to blow away so much money and not go broke?

And then he heard the mention of a name belonging to a man that his father had borrowed money from. A man named Janus Xavien to be precise. It was then that the pieces clicked in Wufei's head. Having owed this man a large amount of money…his father had sold him to this man to pay off the debt. It sounded outlandish, he knew, but from the way his uncle spoke of his father's gambling problem, it became more than plausible and more as a possibility if not a probability.

He didn't mention this theory to his uncle, at least not until he had some more proof. The way that Xavien had mentioned he had a duty to repay some sort of debt, though, and always mentioning it whenever it seemed like he was about to rebel…it was definitely suspect. He knew that the businessman had a need to control everything around him and using the cultural beliefs that he had ingrained into his head would be something that Xavien would take advantage of.

It was on the third day that they received some visitors.

To more specific, it was his father accompanied by two boys dressed in familiar black uniforms.

"What is this?" Deng had asked aloud as he watched his brother's approach to his front door. "I wonder why he would be here?"

Recognizing the two boys with his father, Wufei and growled back, "I think I have a good idea. Stay inside and don't come out for any reason. I'll handle this."

"What is going on Wufei?" Deng had asked, his voice holding no warmth in it. "What is this all about?"

Sighing, Wufei replied, "If I live through this, I'll tell you everything."

"Wufei?" Deng was frowning, taking a step forward with a hand reaching out for his nephew only to stop as Wufei set off at a fast pace, heading for the front door.

In no time at all, he took hold of the round doorknob and flung the door open, long before his father or the two other boys could reach the porch. His father blinked at him owlishly, clearly not expecting to have found his son here of all places. However, if there was one thing that this particular Chang was good at, it was recovery as he schooled his features into a bland mask quickly enough that one would suspect his previous surprise to be nothing but an illusion.

Wufei knew better, though, and his stiff body was tense as he awaited the inevitable fight that he knew was about to take place. Hmm, was this how it was for that annoying blond and his braided shadow of a friend?

"What are you doing here, Wufei?" his father's stern voice demanded questioningly, his dark eyes focused solely on the youth.

"Is it suddenly wrong for me to visit with my uncle?" Wufei replied stiffly, looking straight into his father's eyes, seeking any of the truth that his uncle had told him over the past couple days. He could see how uncomfortable the man was becoming as he noticed how the other man's hardened eyes cracked under the pressure, how they were becoming more and more unsure by the moment.

For all of his life, Wufei had only seen his father in one light: strict, disciplined, honorable, and patriarchal. There had been nothing that this man could do wrong and for the longest time he had wanted to grow up just to be like him. But then he was sent to that lab, used as a test subject, and now told that the man he called his father wasn't what he seemed. Wufei could see subtle differences about the man now, the way he shifted his weight in discomfort, the manner in which his eyes were constantly twitching the more pressure Wufei leveled pressure on him.

Flicking his eyes over to look at the two accompanying boys, Wufei snorted. "Why are Uriel and Samayaza here?" he demanded, glaring down at his father.

Before his father could answer, he was interrupted by one of the boys. "The boss was wondering where you had gone to," Uriel, a tall, dark skinned boy with short, black and green spiky hair and brown eyes full of loathing, spoke up. "He thought you were dead but no one could find anything of you. Ordered us to accompany this guy and find you if you were still breathing."

"Is this true?" Wufei demanded, turning back to his father.

Speaking of his father, the man had seemed to have found his spine again as he was standing straighter and looking down at his son despite Wufei being a few steps higher due to being on a porch.

"You still have a debt to pay back, boy," his father stated, frowning scathingly at the Chinese youth. "You are honor bound to fulfill it by any means necessary. I do not know what Xavien is doing but he must be paid back and it is your duty to do so."

"It's not my debt," Wufei replied calmly. "If what I've heard is true, it is your debt, not mine. It is _your_ duty to pay it back and it is your honor that is on the line. Why don't you be a man and own up to it?"

"What?!" his father blustered, staring the youth down as if he had never seen him before. "Now see here—"

"Wasn't it _you_ who racked up a gambling debt?" Wufei interrupted. "Wasn't it _you_ who owed money to one of the wealthiest men on the planet? And isn't it _you_ who is responsible for your own debts and that you should manage them until you are able? It is not my responsibility to fix your mistakes while you are still living."

"Then let's fix that, shall we?" Uriel butted in.

Wufei's father's eyes widened, as if something had invaded his body, and slowly though shakily his hand raised up and pulled out an ornamental dagger from under his coat. Fluidly, he raised the dagger up and planted the tip of the blade just over his chest, right where his heart was.

Eyes narrowing, Wufei snapped, "What are you doing Uriel?"

"Moving things along," Uriel shrugged. "It's no skin off my back if this sack of shit here dies. But I'll make you and offer. Come in with us and Daddy-o here gets to keep his life. Refuse, and he dies. Then you'll be honor bound or whatever to up hold your end of the deal. So what'll it be?"

"You might as well do it anyway," Samayaza, a tall, pale boy with short, dark brown hair and two different colored eyes, one blue and the other green, piped up. "It'll be just one less sick person to worry about."

Wufei ignored the brunet in favor of looking at his father. He had heard Samayaza speak like this before since the other boy had an extreme fear and dislike of disease and people who had them. According to the boy, everybody had a disease except for him and Wufei preferred to tune it out rather than listen to it.

Back to the matter at hand, Wufei stared into his father's eyes, the man pleading helplessly with him to save him. It was odd, really, Wufei had done nearly the same thing when he had been taken to Xavien's lab all that time ago. And back then, his father had done nothing. Learning about his father's vices and gambling habit only served to push this man further away from Wufei's heart and allow the boy to look at the situation objectively.

"Do it then," Wufei stated, ignoring the look of betrayal and shock on his father's face. "He threw me away easily. Justice is equal, after all. He's your problem now."

Uriel blinked in surprise. "How cold-blooded of you," he said. Shrugging, he continued, "Looks like that plan was a flop. Guess we'll have to go to plan B then. Been nice knowing ya, old man."

Wufei ignored the sight of the dagger plunging into his father's body, ignored the spray of blood that shot out of the man's body and onto the pavement, ignored the sound of the dying man crumpling down to the ground, doing it all in favor of keeping his sights on Uriel and Samayaza.

The inevitable fight was at hand and Wufei was already preparing himself for it as he formed a form-fitting shield of ice-cold temperature around his body. He was no stranger to these two's powers. Uriel to his left had this uncanny ability to take away a person's survival instinct while Samayaza controlled disease despite the fact he was germophobic. The freezing barrier around him would prevent most diseases from getting to him but for how long remained unanswered.

"Now, now, Wufei," Uriel spoke. "There's no need to get violent here. You wouldn't want there to be anymore dead bodies, would you?"

"Actually, I do," Wufei replied. Seeing their surprised expressions, he added, "Yours."

A blast of heat rammed into the two boys, sending them both flying away. While Uriel ended up flopping onto the driveway, Samayaza slammed into a tree, sliding down the truck of it in a daze.

Smirking, Wufei shot himself off the porch with a blast of heat, heading straight for Uriel who he considered to be the more dangerous of the two. Uriel, however, had flipped onto his feet and intercepted the Chinese youth by clotheslining. Despite his height and skinny frame, Uriel had some muscle on his body. With that said, Uriel bent over to grab Wufei but the Chinaman was ready.

He kicked back with his legs, sending Uriel backwards and onto his back. Using his momentum, he rolled and got back to his feet, bending his legs and launching himself back at Wufei in a blur, landing a punch right onto his left cheek.

Rolling with the punch, Wufei spun his body and roundhouse kicked Uriel, sending him stumbling away. Taking the opportunity to harden his defenses, he focused a large amount of coldness around a fist and flung it into Uriel's gut. It was great feeling the other give way under the punch but Wufei didn't stop to revel in it. He could sense Samayaza making his way over to them and he was ready with a tactic to stall him.

He twirled his body, dodging a strange, sickly green mist that shot past him, and faced with his other opponent. There stood Samayaza, a ball of sickly green mist held in one hand that was also held quite a distance from his body and a face scrunched up in disgust not just with Wufei but with his hand as well.

Not hesitating, Wufei leapt up into the air and landed in front of the other boy where he proceeded to cough on him.

With an OCD-like reaction, Samayaza released his control on the diseases he held in favor of try to wipe away the nonexistent germs from Wufei's cough, the boy squealing in horror.

Knowing that this would buy him some time, he left Samayaza alone to deal with his imagined attack and struck back at Uriel who was just getting back up to his feet. Hoping to land another kick, the Chinese youth balanced on one foot as his other leg kicked out at the punkish boy. Uriel, however, was ready and he caught the attack with both arms, the appendages wrapping around Wufei's leg tightly.

Twisting his waist, Uriel swung Wufei and threw him at the building that was his uncle's house. Spinning his body in midair, Wufei impacted the outer wall of his uncle's house and launched himself off of it, slicing through the air like a bullet and ramming into Uriel with as much force as one.

Uriel recovered much quicker than expected and as he landed on his back, he kicked his legs up into Wufei's gut, throwing him off of him and sending Wufei off to land ungracefully onto the ground. Scrambling to his feet, Wufei readied himself as Uriel got back to his feet and flung himself at him.

He dodged the first two punches thrown at him and caught the third one with ease. Fisting his hand, he shot a punch upward right into Uriel's elbow, snapping the joint and rendering Uriel's arm useless. Somehow ignoring the pain, Uriel, kneed Wufei in his stomach and slammed his other unbroken elbow into his back when he leaned down.

With a blast of heat, he sent Uriel flying back and twisted out of the way of another ball of green, disease mist. Seemed like Samayaza got over his obsession and was back in the fight. No problem.

He charged the other boy, swiping at him with a chop that was dodged. However, before Wufei could do anything else, he was hit with the full brunt of a blast of disease in his face. He didn't go flying back as he expected and if anything, he didn't feel sick. Looking into the superior smirk that Samayaza was throwing at him, he just scowled and high kicked the boy in his chest, sending him stumbling back and falling onto his back.

Suddenly, his body froze and he became aware that Uriel hadn't gone as far as he thought he had.

"About time you got involved," Uriel growled as he glared at Samayaza.

"I can't help it," the other whined pleadingly. "He might've had something and I could've caught it and—"

"Shut up already," Uriel snapped, turning his glare onto Wufei. "Now, for you, you have two choices here. Either you agree to come with us or you wind up like your old man. Now choose."

At the mention of his father, his eyes glanced over at the sprawled out corpse. There was no way he was going to end up like that, not willingly. Feeling out how strong Uriel's influence was, he smirked to himself.

Leaning his head so that it looked like his neck was extremely flexible, he said to Uriel. "I think I'll choose the third choice."

Uriel frowned. "Third choice?"

The air around them began to flow towards Wufei, picking up speed with each and every second. "Do you know what causes wind?" the Chinese youth asked pleasantly. "Temperature. You see, with a small area heats up, the air there lifts and cool air rushes in to fill up the void left behind. The hotter it is, the more powerful the wind becomes. Now when you mix it with enough cold, the heat and cold begin to rotate around each other…"

As he spoke, the wind around them began to do exactly as he said. The pull of the wind was becoming stronger and stronger, making it harder for both Uriel and Samayaza to keep their footing. From the corner of his eyes, Wufei saw shingles on his uncle's house tear off and spin around in the small tornado he was forming. Hopefully his uncle's house wouldn't be torn up in the process of this.

"Are you crazy?!" Uriel roared. "You're gonna kill us all!"

"Why should I care?" Wufei drawled out. "You took away my survival instinct."

Uriel's eyes widened at that and that was all he could do as he was pulled up into the air, disappearing into the storm.

Wufei could feel himself losing control of this storm and for some reason he found he couldn't care less. In fact, he was beginning to wonder why he was doing this in the first place…

Uriel screamed as he sought to stop this unintended reaction but the powerful winds prevented him from reaching out to give back Wufei's survival instinct. The next thing he knew, he was impaled deeply onto a tree branch, his back pressing up against the tree's trunk and blood spilling out from the large wound in his torso.

Suddenly, rationality came back to Wufei and he let out a burst of coldness, putting out enough that he stopped the tornado and created an ice-cold environment where ice dangled off plants and the sun was blocked out by thick clouds that were busy dumping snow, sleet, and hail everywhere.

"Oops," he said to himself. How was he going to explain this one to his uncle?

He was so caught up in this new dilemma that he didn't notice the body of Samayaza lying in the snow, multiple shingles sticking out of his body. What he did notice was a sudden hacking fit that took over him, a fit that left him coughing up some blood into his hand.

Looking at the sight, he stared in horrified contemplation at the blood.

---

"Hello!" Dorothy's voice cut in, snapping Wufei out of his reverie. Blinking, he cursed himself for having blanked out.

"What?" he snapped.

"I asked you question and you just zoned out on me!" Dorothy stated, not looking happy at all.

"Oh, yes, your question," Wufei snapped back into attention, combing through his mind for the asked question. Failing to locate it, he asked nervously, "What was the question again?"


	8. Hold Me

Author's Note: Short chapter this time but a new face and an old one pop of this time around. On another note, Observing Time, I need your reply. The sooner, the better. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or Archsage Soren's Mordred.

Warning: language

Hold Me

It was just a simple physical. That's all it was suppose to be. He should've been in and out and given a clean bill of health.

You know, that sort of thing.

"Mr. Xavien, sir," the doctor said hesitantly, his eyes trying to look anywhere but at the man who was his patient. "There seems to be a problem…"

Looking irritably at the man as he buttoned up his shirt, Xavien said, "What is it?"

"According to the results of your tests, we've found something…strange," the physician said, hurriedly looking into Xavien's file. "Something is occurring in your body, something that is not suppose to be happening, at least. Many of the symptoms we're finding are consistent with those of the Project Maxwell test subjects."

"And is that suppose to mean anything?" Xavien said dryly. "Just get to the point."

"You've been taking that variation of the Solution 1051 formula, haven't you?" the doctor asked. When he received an annoyed nod, he continued, "Well, I believe it would be in your best interest if you would…stop taking the formula."

"Excuse me," Xavien snapped, focusing his lethal attention on the doctor.

"Something…unnatural is happening with your body and I believe that your injections are the cause of it," the doctor said, gaining confidence with every word. Slowly, he was slipping back into his role of a medical practitioner and caregiver; it was something he in his fear was going to latch onto to see himself through this ordeal. "A sample of your blood revealed mutated proteins and signs of heightened white blood cell and red blood cell counts. At this point in time, you have too much blood flowing through your body."

"And that's a bad thing how?" Xavien demanded.

"I've never seen anything like this before," the doctor confessed. "I don't know if there is anything dangerous at this point but what I do know that it is too unnatural. I believe you might be causing irreparable harm to yourself should you continue with taking the Solution 1051 rudiment. Plus, there are also signs of electromagtivity occurring in each of your cell, almost to the point that some cell are consumed in electricity. It's too bizarre, medically speaking, and the fact that you are still alive…"

"Enough," Xavien snapped, standing up and heading to the door. "Run those tests again. Something must be wrong with your equipment to get readings like those. I want all results on my desk in the morning so hop to it." As he passed by a heart monitor, the machine that had previously been turned off activated and image on its screen showed up scrambled. "See?" Xavien said, pointing out the machine. "Your equipment must be faulty. Either get them fixed or send them elsewhere, I don't care where, but just keep it confidential."

"Yes, Mr. Xavien," the doctor said, his shoulders slumping.

With that, Xavien left the office, taking a left and heading deeper into his underground complex, mulling over what the medical examiner had told him. Stop taking his precious youth serum? Pfft, as if! He was more than sure that it was just a mistake that the man had made and that a second opinion would clarify this.

In the meantime, though, he had some business that needed to be taken care of.

Trekking down into the bowls of the facility, he picked up a thick-coated parka along the way, putting it on as the room temperature began to plummet. Digging his hands deeper into the thick cloth, he entered a large freezer, his breath steaming in front of his face as the door closed behind him.

Before him sat a young boy, one that Xavien knew for a fact was only fourteen. Sitting cross-legged in a meditative pose, the boy's skin was dark enough to give him out as having Native American ancestry though his hair, bleached to a pale blue due to the sessions, stuck out on him. Currently, he was dressed only in a loincloth, leaving the rest of his lean, muscular body out for all the world to witness.

Yet this boy was not bothered by the cold that surrounded him. Not even his body showed a sign of discomfort like shivers or even goosebumps. His mouth was curved downward, as if showing displeasure even though Xavien knew that was far from the truth and he paused to look at the one flaw on the boy's body, a slightly crooked nose that was a result from the training the boy had undergone.

He was the pride of Project Maxwell, Xavien's personal favorite and one of the few that he acknowledged by name. A boy that he had taken under his wing since he was young and the boy had shown great promise with his cool intelligence and utter devotion and loyalty that only Xavien could claim to have.

"Mordred," he greeted, looking down at the boy with a hint of fondness in his eyes.

Deep blue eyes opened slowly and looked up towards the only man that he respected. "Janus," he greeted back, pushing himself up to his feet with a grace that even Xavien envied.

About average height, Mordred only came up to about Xavien's nose and that was standing ramrod straight. My, how he had grown over the years, Xavien marveled. He could recall the very day he had first laid eyes on him.

He had been nothing more than something used to pay off a debt. To tell the truth, it was more as if Mordred had been sold to him by his parents all to support a drug habit that consisted of heavy marijuana use. Mordred had displayed an unusual perceptiveness, somehow understanding what his parents had done. Xavien had seen the hatred boiling beneath the surface but had made no move to look into it. At first, the then young boy had been put into menial labor and for a time had been forgotten.

Then his brother had been put into the same position and the boy's fury finally erupted. In this case, it was more productive than it was destructive; Mordred had given up his birth name and worked himself nearly to death, ultimately attracting Xavien's attention back to him. After that, it's all history.

"What brings you here today?" Mordred spoke up, steering Xavien's thoughts back to the present. "Is there another mission that requires my services?"

He didn't know yet. Hmm, there was a possibility to take advantage of this.

"I'm afraid it's not just that," Xavien sighed, trying his best to sound forlorn and succeeding to a degree.

"What's wrong?" Mordred inquired, picking up on the fact that something was up.

"It's Stone," he answered, filling his eyes with sorrow.

"What happened?" Mordred demanded, his blue eyes hardening. "Is he hurt?"

"No, Stone has…been eliminated," Xavien said softly, keeping sight of the boy in his peripheral vision. "On the latest mission he volunteered for, he came into contact with the target but the target struck back and killed him. I'm sorry."

Mordred stared at him, looking completely lost. In a flash that was all gone as rage contorted his face and he blew up.

Covering his face with his arm, Xavien braced himself against the rush of chill that flooded past him, shards of ice shooting in all directions, even cutting into his parka but not piercing his skin. Xavien trusted Mordred not to go too overboard but hey, he still had his health to think about!

Suddenly, Xavien felt himself picked up off his feet and held off the ground, Mordred snarling just a few mere inches from him. "WHO DID IT?!" the boy roared. "WHO KILLED MY BROTHER?!"

"#10615," Xavien rasped out. "Stone was on a mission to retrieve 10615 and it was 10615 that terminated him. He said he wanted to make up for the Romafellor mission when he and his team failed to retrieve 11085. I thought he was more than capable for this mission…"

"Say no more," Mordred snarled, dropping Xavien and spinning around to find more suitable clothes. "I'll deal with that little traitor myself—"

"Of course," Xavien said as he got back up to his feet. "I've been keeping tabs on 10615 since he left the Winner compound. He hasn't gone too far from the place…"

"That's all I need to know, Janus," Mordred interrupted coldly.

"Ah, but there's more," Xavien said. "According to my intelligence, he heading for the area in which I suspect 12093 is skulking about. If they were to join forces to ensure their survival, I don't think even you would stand a chance."

"So I'll cut it off first," Mordred replied grimly. "I'll finish off 12093 then deal with 10615. There's no need to send others with me."

Looking as if he wanted to protest, Xavien stopped himself and nodded. "Very well then. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Only the present location of 12093," Mordred stated, his hand grabbing a black uniform.

---

He sure picked a homely place this time, Katsaris groused to himself, that is if you consider a rundown, middle of nowhere, falling apart, dusty town homely.

But there was fifty million up for grabs thus the General was willing to go even into the most retched of places if it meant getting those valuable pieces of green paper.

Looking at his watch, he nodded to himself. Four o'clock. Very good. He knew now where to find his specialist.

Entering a bar, he scanned the room, his eyes landing on the only customer in the joint and lo and behold, there he was. Katsaris let a small smirk grace his features for a second before he neutralized his face and headed over towards the other man.

Pulling out a chair, he sat down into it and stared at the other man intently, the blond, muscular man facing him looking back at him bored with his hazel eyes.

"Been awhile, hasn't it Serbiak?" Katsaris spoke out loud.

The blond man didn't even blink as he drawled back, "A few months asshole. What brings an important guy like you to a place like this?"

"I have a job," Katsaris said, getting down to business. "It's a fifty million gig but I'm going to need your help in completing it. There's ten mill in it for you if you accept."

"Hmm, ten mill huh?" Serbiak murmured, looking contemplative as he rubbed a finger down on the long scar that marred the left side of his face.

Katsaris just leaned back in his seat, confident in the knowledge that the mercenary would agree with his request. It was only in a mercenary's nature to do what was needed to get cash, no matter who they had to kill or what they had to destroy to do so.

"Make it fifteen and you have a deal," Serbiak said suddenly, stunning Katsaris.

"F-fifteen!" Katsaris nearly bellowed, looking as if he was about to have a coronary. He was more than prepared to part with ten of his future earnings but fifteen?!

"It's that or you don't get me," Serbiak said, smirking at the General. "I'm the best at what I do so don't you think I should be more than compensated for my services?"

"What gives you the idea that you can overcharge?" Katsaris demanded.

"Oh, do you know anyone else who can do what I can?" Serbiak challenged. "If you can, then go already. I doubt there is so you better get me while you still can."

"Arrogant prick," Katsaris growled.

"Cheap jackass," Serbiak shot back, not losing his smirk.

Weighing his options, knowing full well that there was no one else he knew that had the expert skills that this man had, he found that he had no choice but to agree to this unforeseen obstacle. Thirty-five million was still much better than none…

"Fine, you have a deal," he grumbled in defeat, holding out his hand to shake Serbiak's and seal the deal. The blond mercenary reciprocated and pulled back from the General lazily, ordering another drink so that he could go over this new job.

"Tell me, what is it that we're going to be doing?" he questioned, leaning back into his seat.


	9. Duo the Time Traveler

Author's Note: Thanks for responding Observing Time. For the rest of you, this chapter is going to seem a bit strange but if you go back and read Progeny, it will make much more sense, unless you remember every detail of it. And KO, here's your answer to one of your questions. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, death

Duo the Time Traveler

Being able to control time gave one a different perspective, especially when one was able to actually look back on past events and marvel at them. It was an ability that Duo had not known he had but now that he was getting back into the hang of using his abilities once more, he began discovering quite a few things about what he could and couldn't do.

He enjoyed destroying things, that was something that hadn't changed but he had to admit that walls of frozen time weren't all that great. The time knives were pretty cool though; he just loved slashing things apart with them and the long tendrils of time he could summon had their advantages as well. However, while he could speed time up and actually freeze it to a millisecond, what really got to him was that he couldn't reverse it. He could stop the universe in its tracks, warp himself so that yes he could physically be in two places at once, and cause lifeforms and inanimate objects to deteriorate at accelerated rates yet he couldn't so much as turn time backwards and undo all the damage he had caused.

What a load of crock!

He was pissed off about that and it was going to take at least a chapter or so to get over it but in the meantime, what was he to do? It was only a matter of time, no pun intended, before he ran across some agents sent out to capture him. He figured that the best course of action would have to be to go back to that base and annihilate it but there remained one little problem.

Something was preventing him from actually going there, probably some countermeasure that was developed in case he went rogue. He'd have to go back on foot but he had no idea where to go other than to that town he and Solo wrecked when they first escaped.

There was no doubt that he was confident in his powers but who knew what awaited him back at that base? The fights with the Lightning Twins, Speedy Gonzales, the guy who lost his head, that redhead who beat the crap out of Trowa, and Jason were still vivid in his mind and he knew that if those fights gave him trouble, what else did ol' two-eyes have waiting for him? He was going to need backup for this one but he already knew just who to go to.

Now only to find him.

He was going to have to backtrack but he had a plan for that already. It wasn't something he had tried before but hey, he was still experimenting. If his control over time was as good as he thought it was, then time traveling to the past shouldn't be too much of a biggie, right? Sure he couldn't manipulate time so that it went backwards but if he could do something as freeze everything in the universe in time, time travel shouldn't be too much of a leap, right?

"Knowing my luck, it'll kill me," Duo muttered as he glared at the very air in front of his face as if it offended him. "Still, I don't have any better ideas. Man, I must be out of my mind."

Then again, he wasn't so sure that Solo hadn't been out of his mind either. The things too much solitude will do to a guy.

"Okay, now how do I find this guy?" Duo asked himself. "Last I remember, he was at that church but if my memories are correct, then he's not gonna be there anymore. So which way did he go? Chances are he went in some random direction knowing him. Gonna have to risk it. Alright, it's just like warping only I'm going to somewhere else in the past no less. No problem."

Right, no problem.

To make a long story of focusing on power and overextending himself to take hold of the whole time-space continuum, it worked but to say that he was almost comatose by the end of this would be an understatement. In fact, he was near death had had to take an hour-long breather before he could even begin pushing himself off of the ground.

"Not one of my better ideas," he muttered as he continued to lay on the rocky ground, barely taking notice of the barren land he was on. "Wondering if I can sleep for a hundred years…"

"Bullshit!"

Eh?

He heard voices, at least one of them raised loudly enough for him to catch. Ignoring his body's protests, he pushed himself up with wobbly arms, managing to get into a sitting position just in time to see a body flying through the air. From he could see, it looked like a muscular teenagers of all people and he crashed harshly into the ground, bouncing and skidding along it before coming to a stop.

A moment later, there was a large booming sound that rattled the very earth beneath the braided boy. He had no idea what could have caused it but suddenly the other boy who had been flying by a moment before was back on his feet and charging back into battle. Looking hopefully at the individual, he frowned when he saw long, red hair instead of long, blond hair.

It looked too natural to be dyed and Duo had to assume that this guy was not the one he was looking for.

The sounds of a battle could be heard nearby, one that included loud, screeching booms, cries of pain, bodies hitting the ground, and the landscape being torn apart. Trying to remain unnoticeable, he dragged himself away as far as he could, making it to an outcropping of rocks that he took refuge behind.

After giving himself a few minutes to rest, he peaked over the rocks that hid him and marveled as he saw a long tree root burst through the desert soil and being pulled out by the hand belonging to a tall individual with a unibang.

"Trowa," Duo murmured to himself, the memories of this young adult coming back to him and filling him in on all the knowledge he had on him. He remembered meeting this man at a circus, remembered watching him summon all sorts of plants to catch a large circus ride that had been falling down at them, even going as far as to recall the young man's female companion who was good at throwing knives.

Turning his head, he was able to catch the sight of a long haired blond landing a piledriver into the redhead from earlier. The way he moved as he rammed the redhead with his shoulder, the harshness in which he headbutted him, the very manner in which he took a cheap shot and kicked the redhead in the balls.

It could be none other than Solo.

The weakness of his body forgotten, he continued to watch as Solo dealt with not one but two boys at the same time, knocking one out and dealing with the other who also seemed to have the habit of not going down easily. Oh yes, he could definitely see the advantages of taking Solo along back to the base.

Things were winding down on Solo's end of the fight and Duo took the opportunity to crouch back down behind the rocks he hid behind. All he had to do now was wait for this fight to end before warping back to the present, slowly this time, and learning where the blond was going next.

His strength was returning to him slowly but surely yet he decided to cut the resting period down some by dipping into his deep reserves of power. He didn't want to stick around for too long; who knew what his mere presence in the past would do to the future?

A few minutes later, he suddenly received an unexpected companion. It was a boy with angelic looks and golden eyes and at the moment he looked terrified. Duo recognized him as one of the boys whom Solo had been duking it out with. Wow, Xavien was scraping the bottom of the barrel with his test subjects, wasn't he?

"Those idiots have no idea what they're getting themselves into," the angelic boy said to himself, looking over the rocks.

Eyes narrowing, Duo found that he couldn't resist temptation as he spoke heartily, "They sure don't."

The other boy nodded in agreement, failing to realize that he wasn't as alone as he thought he was for a minute. When it did strike him, he slowly turned his head towards the braided one who had readied a time knife. He grabbed the other boy by his throat, choking him slightly and plunged the time knife into his body, speeding up the boy's remaining time and reducing him to mere dust.

It was only a second later that he realized what he had done and he back away as he felt some sort of intense pressure wash over him. It was as if he was being watched by somebody, someone who knew what he had just done. Not willing to stay any longer, he warped away, not going far or back in time.

What had he just done? He screwed everything up! That guy he killed, what if he was suppose to have died somewhere else, somewhere that was not here? Oh man, this was too complex for his little mind to comprehend!

He needed to calm down and think this through; he couldn't make any rash decisions now and he doubted he would survive another attempt of going back into the past. Knowing his luck, he'd probably end up creating some time paradox or something.

The sight of a certain long haired blond who balanced a unibanged youth and a blonde girl with weird eyebrows on his shoulders all the while running away from a dark…hoard…of zombies?

Now he had seen everything.

Screw time paradoxes, he had more important things to worry about now, like keeping track of Solo.

With that, he warped away once more.

---

Howard couldn't take his eyes of this kid, he just couldn't. The young lad that he had come to know as Solo was something alright. A mouth like a sailor, a devil-may-care attitude, and phenomenal strength that he was now employing to help out around this scrapyard and mechanic's garage were just the tip of the iceberg when it came to thinking about this boy.

Hilde had certainly picked up a keeper this time. Of course, that didn't mean that she was off the hook from trying to rob a convenience store again. Some good ol' fashion hard work that included scrubbing off the oil stains from the garage floor and polishing countless hubcaps would work wonders on that girl's kleptomania. Even if it didn't work in the long run, it at least kept her too busy to steal.

Back to the matter at hand, that behind the matter of Solo, the blond had mentioned awhile back that he didn't plan on staying around too long. In fact, the first day here he said that he intended on hitting the road the next day. But what started off as only spending the night turned into two nights and then three and by now the blond lad was starting to become a permanent fixture around here.

It never ceased to amaze the old mechanic whenever the boy would pick up something that would usually take a forklift to lift as if it weighed nothing. Stuff that hadn't been moved in years were being carried around in the bare hands of this boy. How was he able to do this stuff? Honestly.

He jumped at the resounding sound of metal crashing unmercifully against even more scrap metal. The shrieking noise of metal scraping against metal was not pleasant to listen to, much less hear, and when it ended, he asked wryly, "You think you could've done that any louder?"

Glancing at him, Solo replied, "I don't know, maybe I can try."

Not expecting such an answer, Howard released a guffaw and had to contain his amusement despite having a few snickers escape. "You're a hoot, boy, you know that?"

"Not before you told me," Solo said, glancing over at the old man. "Ya have anything else ya need me ta do?"

"Let me go check," he answered, strolling over to the garage. Maybe there was a tool chest or a pickle jar that needed to be pried open. Couldn't hurt to check.

Finding the garage sweltering hot, he swore, remembering that he had forgotten to turn on the AC that morning. Without such a Godsend, the garage would be unbearably hot and impossible to work in. At least for him it would be impossible; he had a low tolerance for heat even though it made no sense whatsoever that he lived in the southern part of Nevada which was a freaking desert for crying out loud.

Digging around through all the knickknacks and crap that littered the garage, his search for one more chore to give to Solo was halted as a car horn beeped from behind the closed garage door. Great, another customer. They sure had good timing, didn't they?

"I'm gonna have to take a raincheck," he called out to the blond boy. "Got some company."

After hearing something that sounded an awful lot like "yeah, yeah," he pressed the garage door opener and stood with his thin arms crossed, waiting for the large door to open and allow the incoming automobile entrance. When the sight of a very expensive and foreign-made car pulled in, he couldn't help but let out a whistle in appreciation. Perhaps this wasn't going to be all bad…

Then the passenger stepped out and Howard's mood soured.

"Markus," he nearly hissed, eyes narrowing under his sunglasses.

The smug smirk that belonged to only one man was his reply as the businessman known as Markus Troy made his way over to the mechanic.

"It's been awhile Howard," Troy said mockingly, glancing over the equipment with a critical eye, his smirk not leaving his face. "It looks like you could use some better tools, maybe upgraded equipment by the looks of it."

"What do you want now Markus?" Howard demanded, in no mood to banter with this man.

"I thought you would never ask," Troy replied, his green eyes snapping to capture the mechanic in his sight.

---

"You look happy," Solo commented as he strolled into the house, lazily watching Hilde as she served her sentence. At the moment she was sweeping the tiled floor of the kitchen with her back facing the blond, giving him a nice view of her rear. His eyes were glued to the sight as he watched the body part sway side to side with each sweep the girl made.

"It's your fault," the girl grumbled, refusing to look at the other.

"My fault?" Solo repeated, blinking owlishly at her. "How's it my fault?" he protested with faux innocence, taking his eyes away from Hilde to look at a small boy who was eating a bowl of cereal at the kitchen table. "Is she PMSin' or something?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders as he stuck a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, looking worshipfully at the blond.

"Why don't you mind your own beeswax?" Hilde shot at him.

"Okay," Solo shrugged as he tracked dusty footprints all over the swept floor, taking a seat next to the silent boy at the table.

In return, Hilde glared at the blond who didn't even acknowledge it. This infuriated the girl even more that she was almost tempted to whack him upside the head with her broom. In fact, she was just beginning to brace herself for such a thing when Howard suddenly burst into the house.

She was taken aback at the look of pure fury and anger that was on her caretaker's face and he said absolutely nothing as he stomped further into the house, not saying a word as he vanished from sight.

"What…?" she said to herself, looking through the doorway that Howard had just went through.

"What pissed him off?" Solo asked aloud, frowning as he looked in the same direction Hilde was. Glancing back at the floor, he said, "He got dirt all over the place and didn't even notice…"

Eyes widening, Hilde's head snapped downwards to look in horror at the ruined floor. Were they trying to make this harder on her or something?


	10. When Hell Freezes

Author's Note: Here's a quick update, I know, unexpected but I got into a writing frenzy this weekend. So, for you're reading pleasure, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence death

When Hell Freezes

"That went rather well," Troy smirked as he relaxed in his car. "Shouldn't be long now until Howie cracks. I give him until tomorrow morning for his answer."

"Don't you think it was a bit much threatening those kids like that?" his driver spoke up, not taking his eyes off the road.

"Who'd miss them?" Troy replied flippantly. "It's not as if anyone would care. The important thing, though, is that we'll have a place to keep the drugs until we can distribute them."

"Yes sir," the driver said.

---

It was such a beautiful day in the Oval Office. It was something that Septum could only have dreamed about months ago but now those dreams were a reality. He was in charge of the most powerful country on the planet and soon everyone would know about it.

It had only been a few minutes ago that he had alerted the local press of the change of command and he was giddy about what tomorrow's headlines would be. Hell, he had a television and was waiting for the first breaking news story to interrupt the regularly scheduled program.

"I'm bored," the Maxwell weapon known as Rex drawled, his eyes glued to the television. "Change the channel already."

"Change it to Channel 4," the other weapon Brett agreed. "There's suppose to be some action flick on right now."

Septum's left eye twitched. "We are not going to be watching anything else," he stated gruffly. "Now be good little boys and shut up."

Rex huffed and turned his head away snobbishly while Brett made no action that said he had heard the General. "Boys he calls us," Rex muttered but said nothing else.

That was much better, Septum groused to himself. The sweet sound of silence, something that hadn't been in this city since the coup de' tat. Of course, it wouldn't be silent for long. Not only was there the reaction from the public but also there was the renegade General Keppel. He had been stumped to hear that the man had managed to survive as long as he had, long enough to begin gathering forces of his own.

Septum was positive that the General was up to something, probably thinking of ways to take power for himself. Well, let him try and stand up to the force that was Project Maxwell. He'll be crushed like all those politicians before him.

Glancing over to where the two weapons had planted their selves, he frowned in thought. The independence that the two were displaying was troubling. He knew that the only reason why they were still here was because of Xavien and not him, Septum. That was another person who needed to be watch; he only trusted Xavien as far as he could see him and since he didn't like looking at the man…

There was no doubt that he was probably being watched but it was who he needed to be careful around that was the question. The weapons were no brainers but that left his officers, men he had trusted for years and that bothered him.

There was nothing more treacherous than a two-faced bastard who held your trust.

"_We interrupt your regularly schedule program for some breaking news…"_

Perking up from his thoughts, he slowly let a smile out as he listened further.

---

Tapping a finger on the boardroom table, Raberba Winner looked irritably at his watch, wondering what was taking Quatre so long to get here. His son had assured him he'd be here in time for the board meeting but in an act so out of character, his heir was late.

What could be keeping him?

Ignoring the presences of the rest of the board members, he pressed a button on an intercom that was built into the table, making a direct line to the secretary out in the front lobby. "Has Quatre arrived yet, Ms. Tillman?" he demanded, keeping his annoyance out of his voice.

"_Not yet Mr. Winner."_

"Inform me of his arrival; we'll be starting without him," Winner growled back into the com, terminating the call and regaining any composure that he may have lost. "Sorry for the delay," he told the board members. "We'll just have to start without him but be assured he will be penalized for his tardiness. This may not be school but my son should know better than to be late."

Much to his relief, he got a chuckle out of his board members, something that boosted his spirits somewhat.

"Well, without further delay, let's get down to the reason why I've called you all here…"

---

"Thank you very much Ms. Tillman," a cold voice spoke to the frightened secretary. "Your services are no longer required now."

Before the poor woman could do anything, a sharp object cut through her body and out through the chair in which she sat on day in and day out. The owner of the cold voice chuckled and kept her held down until he was sure that the woman was too weak to do anything.

Pulling away, he quipped, "Keep cool," and turned to head over to the elevators. Along the way, he passed by two security guards, both entombed in solid blocks of ice, faces of horror permanently frozen in time.

Pressing down on the up button, Mordred slowly banished all thoughts of amusement as he waited for his lift to arrive on the ground floor. Though he had intended to head straight for the last known location of 12093, Janus had snuck up on him and asked if he could take care of something on his way out. The fact that he had requested for him to assassinate the Winners was something that he could not refuse, seeing as it had been at their complex that his little brother had been killed.

It wouldn't be much but this should do wonders for his anger, paying back those that had robbed him of his precious family, a crime that he would not tolerate in the slightest.

Forming a spike of ice in one hand, he said to himself as he stepped into the elevator, his eyes changing to a shimmering silver, "I hope you're ready for your ten o'clock Mr. Winner."

---

He was late and he knew it, something that really bugged Quatre to no end. He had promised his father that he would be at the meeting on time but then his ride just had to get a flat tire.

Yes, even the wealthy were still subject to getting flat tires, another thing that irritated the blond to no end. Add to the fact that he was on a busy interstate in the midst of rush hour and one could see how the heir to one of the most powerful corporations on the planet was behind in his schedule. In the end, he had to call Rashid to pick him up and have someone tow his car from the shoulder of the five lane road.

"Calm down Master Quatre, I'm sure that your father will be understanding about this," the large man said soothingly as he sped down the streets of Salt Lake City, Utah with ease. "There's no way you could have been prepared for a flat, it happens even to the best of us."

"You're being too optimistic, Rashid," Quatre said as he watched the city buildings pass him by dispassionately. "This meeting is incredibly important; my father's going to tear me a new one before the day is through, flat tire or no flat tire."

"Whatever you say Master Quatre," Rashid chuckled, his eyes never leaving the road. In no time at all, he entered a large parking garage and the deeper he drove into it, the more antsy Quatre became. He had barely parked the car in the reserved parking spot when Quatre tore out of the car, powerwalking to the nearest entrance as fast as he could. It was all Rashid could do to turn off the ignition and chase after his youthful charge, not willing to let the young man get beyond his sights.

"Slow down Master Quatre," he admonished as he caught up to the Winner heir. "There's no reason to rush."

"There's all the reason to rush," Quatre retorted. "Father is going to kill me!"

Inside the building and down the hallways, the young man set the fast pace heading for the front lobby where the nearest elevators were. There weren't any near the parking garage, something that Quatre found completely outrageous. What the hell were the builders thinking when they built this place?

He had only entered the front lobby for a minute before he ran straight into a solid wall that was freezing cold to the touch. In took him a minute to realize that he hadn't run into a really cold wall but a block of solid ice…with a person in it?!

He was suddenly pulled back and thrown behind the large bulk of his personal bodyguard who had drawn out a large magnum and was scanning the area, eyes skimming over the sight of the dead Ms. Tillman as they searched for any threats.

Quatre meanwhile was just starting to take in his surroundings and to find half of the front lobby covered in ice shocked him. There was no way this was possible! Unless…

Let it never be said that Quatre didn't have a quick mind. He did and he was already putting the pieces together. The meeting his father had called had been about what they were going to be doing to take advantage of Project Maxwell and since he had already encountered someone who controlled the very wind, it wouldn't be too farfetched if there was someone who could control ice.

Then that meant…

"Father!" he suddenly exclaimed. Rashid glanced back him with a warning glare but he had figured out the meaning behind the blond's words.

"We'll take the stairs," he stated. "This way, quickly."

Quatre said nothing as he led the way to the stairs, pulling out his own sidearm as he slammed his back next to the door to the stairwell. Pushing it open, he let Rashid spy out if the coast was clear, covering the larger man's back. In no time at all, the two men were climbing up the stairs, going up as fast as they could while doing their best not to make too much noise. What if there were under attack and the attacker was still here? No need to be giving away their element of surprise yet.

Coming to the floor where the meeting was being held, Quatre motioned to Rashid to stop and get ready to go in. This time, it would be the larger man who opened the door and Quatre going in first. Nodding down at him, Rashid pushed opened the stairwell door and Quatre pointed his gun out into the hallway, eyes snapping from side to side.

What he found was patches of ice all over the corridor, telling the blond that the attacker had definitely been here. Taking the lead, he crept down the hallway, doing his best not to look at the frozen severed limbs that littered the floor, peeking around the next corner to check for the threat.

Finding nothing, he dashed a few feet ahead, pressing his back against the wall and slowly making his way down the hall, Rashid following his every step. The trek to the boardroom was not pleasant, especially so when they came across the sight of a frozen massacre. They further they ventured, the more and more unsure Quatre became about getting involved with Project Maxwell.

If this was the result of the program, what possible benefits could be derived from it that didn't involve killing people?

Not only that, there was still the question of whether or not his father was still alive. Quatre hoped not but with every passing second it seemed more than certain.

The doors to the boardroom had been frozen and completely shattered when they came upon it. Ignoring all the instincts in him that screamed at him not to do something so foolish, Quatre raced into the boardroom to come upon a horrifying sight.

Many of the board members were staked to their chairs by large icicles, others slashed up completely and missing their heads but nowhere was his father to be found. He swallowed back the vomit he felt bubbling up his throat and he frantically began searching for his missing father.

He needn't look far, he found his father's body pinned to a wall in a mockery of Jesus Christ himself. Eyes had been gouged out, tongue cut off, throat slit, gut eviscerated, blood drained, and that was the rated R description of it.

What kind of monster could have done this…to his father of all people! He was going to find that son of a bitch and make him pay—

He stumbled forward as Rashid slammed right into him. The two of them fell onto the boardroom table which turned out to not only be frozen like everything else but extremely brittle. Quatre felt the full impact as he not only was the one to bear the brunt of the table breaking under him and the landing on the floor but also Rashid's bulk nearly crushing him.

"I'm…sorry…Master Quatre," Rashid gasped to the smaller man.

"I hope you aren't dead yet."

Quatre stiffened at the sound of the foreign voice. Rashid was pulled off of him and the next thing Quatre knew, he was pulled up and facing a pair of piercing silver eyes.

"Quatre Winner isn't it?" the boy said mockingly into his face. "I was hoping you'd show up."

"Who are you?" Quatre managed to question, his teeth clenched together.

"If it's that important to you, you may call me Mordred," the boy answered, pushing the blond and delivering a roundhouse kick into his sternum. The blond was thrown back through the boardroom wall and right into a desk in the next one.

It was a good thing that he was in good physical condition unlike many of the people who worked here. He was able to push himself up off the desk, doing his best to ignore the small cuts and scrapes that he had received. Of course, it just happened to be then that he discovered that he wasn't holding his gun. He must've lost somewhere between crashing through that table and landing on this desk.

"Impressive," Mordred said as he stepped through the hole in the wall. "You're actually standing."

Spitting out some spittle, Quatre harked back, "It's going to take a lot more than that to take me down."

"Indeed," Mordred agreed, bringing a hand up. A white mist began forming around the hand, sparkling as light reflected off the icy particles within it. "Maybe you'll be able to last longer than Mr. Winner."

"Bastard," the blond hissed.

Before Mordred could do anything, he was suddenly struck from behind by a very large and very strong fist. He stumbled forward, Quatre moving out of the way quickly as his mist covered hand was outstretched to try and grab something. Mordred ended up running into the desk Quatre had landed on earlier, the mist covered hand touching it first and freezing the piece of furniture instantly.

Mordred tried to push himself off of the frozen desk only to be jackhammered back into it and then body slammed through it by one very pissed off Rashid.

"Run Master Quatre!" the large man shouted. "I'll deal with him. Just go!"

Something that Rashid hadn't counted on was that Mordred was quick to recover. Summoning his power to freeze anything and everything with a touch, he slammed the palm of his hand onto the side of Rashid's head.

The man's eyes widened as his head froze over, the freezing effect spreading to encompass the rest of his body with increasing speed. With a blast of ice, Mordred flung the large, frozen man off him and sent him back through the hold in the wall. Upon landing on the floor, Rashid's body shattered into many pieces and confirming that the man was indeed dead.

Turning back to where he had last seen Quatre, Mordred cursed as the blond was nowhere to be found. He had taken his bodyguard's order it seemed. Well no matter, he would seek the man out and make sure he paid for his part in Stone's death.

And then it would be Jason's turn.

* * *

Author's Note: Can anybody guess what's special about today. I'll give you a clue, it occurred two years ago. The person who gets this right gets a chapter dedication.


	11. Resuming the Habit

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language

Resuming the Habit

It had been some time since Howard had been in the company of this old friend. However, it was a friend whose company he preferred not to be in since said friend tended to promote an unsavory addiction.

But hey, Jack Daniels didn't judge him, force him to hoard illegal drugs or threaten the lives of the very children who would more than likely overdose on them. Well okay, that last one was a bit of bull and with that Howard took a hefty swig from the glass bottle that he kept hidden from his charges.

Man did it sting on the way down but he was in the frame of mind to get plastered and by golly that's what he was going to do!

If only he hadn't been a recovering alcoholic too…

Damn that man, damn that Markus Troy! He only asked for money once, just once, to help start this scrapyard and the bastard holds it over his head every time. It wasn't like he had a choice in the matter. Money was not easy to come by for a person like him and it plain-ass sucked that assholes like Troy hoarded it all.

Actually, Troy got lucky. The man himself was horrible with money, spending it out the wazoo like it was going out of style and always having to get more to support his fancy lifestyle. If one knew that, then it was no wonder that Troy wasn't competing against guys like WEI or XAI.

Meanwhile, honest, hard-working folks like him always got the bill. As if it wasn't enough that the politicians weren't taxing the shit out of them, assholes like Troy just had to come along and make it worse!

At least Jack Daniels didn't judge him. Wait, hadn't he gone over that already? This was a big reason why he didn't like to get drunk; his mind tending to ramble and fart on itself.

Yet he couldn't help taking just one more swig from that bottle…

---

It always pained Hilde whenever she caught Howard with the bottle. A few years ago, he had been drinking nonstop but nowadays he only did it when there was something on his mind. It must have been the thing that had pissed him off earlier in the day but what could it be?

Creeping away from her peeping spot, she headed for the large bedroom that she shared with the other children that Howard had taken in over the years. The old man had a soft spot for them and gave them a place they could call home despite all the grief they must have put on him.

Stopping at the door, she peeked in the see all her roommates fast asleep and she knew she couldn't go in there to brood. Looks like she needed to go down to the living room.

As she made her way there, she couldn't help but think that she was forgetting something.

That something came to her the moment she sat down on the couch that wasn't as vacant as she thought it was.

"Leave me 'lone, Duo," Solo muttered as he tossed in his sleep, throwing the girl off him and onto the floor.

In a comical fashion, Hilde could only blink stupidly. It took her brain a few minutes for her brain to catch up but when it did, she couldn't figure out whether to hit herself for forgetting they had a guest hogging the couch or hit their guest because he was hogging up the couch.

She settled for doing the latter but for all the good it did, Solo didn't even notice as he continued to mumble in his sleep.

Refusing to go any further, she got back to her feet and trudged to the kitchen this time, pulling out a chair so she could at least sit while thinking about what was up with Howard. The chair, as it was being pulled out, made a slight screeching noise against the tiled floor.

In the next second, Solo sat up straight on the couch, speaking in a muffled voice, "Who there?"

Hilde could only stare once again but this time she threw her hands up in the air and plopped down in her chair. Snapping his head towards her, the blond stared at her for a minute before getting up and taking a seat at the table with her.

"Why you up so late?" he drawled sleepily, eyes blinking to rid themselves of the crummy sleep in the corner of his eyes.

"Well, I did come down here to think by myself," Hilde groused.

"Think 'bout what?" Solo yawned.

"I caught Howard drinking again," she confessed.

"And?" Solo asked, not getting what she was trying to get at.

"He's a recovering alcoholic," she explained, a little put off. "He's managed not to touch his stash in a few months but I just saw him drinking from the bottle again."

"And this means what?" Solo asked. "It could just be a slip, ya know? Ya never really recover from that shit."

"Howard only drinks when something bad is up," Hilde stated. "Remember how he came in earlier? He was mad and all?"

"Uh-huh, so? He probably got pissed off by those guys that came by earlier," Solo shrugged.

"What guys?" Hilde demanded.

"He was lookin' for something for me ta do," Solo told her, "and there was somebody honking their horn. Said he had some company and there was nothin' for me ta do so I left."

"You didn't stick around?" Hilde stated, staring the blond down.

"Why should I have stayed?" Solo inquired. "Not like I know anything 'bout fixin' cars."

"So you think these guys pissed Howard off," Hilde summed up.

"I dun know," Solo shrugged. "For all I know, he coulda dropped his toolbox on his foot."

"But that wouldn't explain why he's drinking," Hilde pointed out.

"Why are you thinkin' so hard 'bout this shit?" Solo asked. "Don't you know what time it is? I don't, but it's still dark out so I might be guessin' that it's still night. Why don't'cha go ta bed already?"

"You just don't understand," Hilde huffed, pushing her chair away from the table and standing up.

Solo said nothing as she left and when she was out of sight, he muttered, "Women. Never understand 'um."

---

The dark night sky hung over the renegade camp, bringing with it the chill that came when the sun had long ago set. Sentries kept watch, looking for any sign that Septum would be coming after them. The men and women who formed the bulk of the small military force stuck close together in small groups, each one more silent and depressed than the last.

Yet at the center of all this, there was one tent in which light flooded it out and various silhouettes of officers extended out like long crooked fingers. In the midst of this busybody group was the leader of this rebel group, General Keppel, the man hard at work trying to devise a plan of action.

It had only been hours beforehand that the media had reported what had occurred in Washington over the past few days and the outrage from the public and citizens had given the General hope. However, he had a gut feeling of what would happen in the next few days. There would be various protests, people damning this new autocratic government, but in the end nothing would really be done about it. The people would continue to grumble but they would adjust to the new status quo.

But Keppel wasn't going to let this potential conflagration go out so easily. Not even Septum would be able to retain power if the entire American population rose up against it. Keppel did have a feeling that reminding the people of their revolutionary roots and their duty to uphold their Constitution, the supreme law of the law, would be enough to incite them.

It may have been the American duty to be suspicious of and against government but how could you provoke a group of people who had fallen into complacency over the course of a century? The last time something of this magnitude had occurred, Lincoln had been in the White House and the nation engaged in a civil war.

And the cacophony of voices that belonged to each and every one of the officers trying to be heard over the others wasn't helping at all.

"Everything that we need has been provided to us," he yelled out, his voice managing to get the attention of the others and quieting down others. "The Founding Fathers have given us the tools, all we need to do is _use_ them. In an effective manner. Now, before any of you speak out about your ideas, think about them first and think about them hard. We don't have much time to utilize what we have and the sooner we can involve the public, the better. Now, who here has an idea?"

It seemed a good amount of his words were not heeded as once again the babble nearly stole his hearing. Sighing, he said nothing as he waited for his peers to lose steam, something that didn't seem to be happening anytime soon. If he hadn't known any better, he'd have thought that he was in the midsts of politicians and bureaucrats. They certainly sounded like them.

"Long night, eh?" a deep voice spoke up next to the general. It wasn't loud like the others yet Keppel was able to locate the source right next to him.

"Lieutenant Merquise," he sighed. Looking over the other officers, he sighed again, "It certainly seems like it's going to get longer."

"Looks that way," Zechs chuckled. "By the way, Trieze reports that for the moment, Septum is settling in. The only thing other than leaking out his takeover that he's done is plan how to deal with you. Other than that, there's nothing much to report."

"And here we are trying arguing with one another on who should do what and how important their part is," Keppel said. "How trivial can we get?"

"Be careful what you ask for, you might get it," Zechs warned. "But to get back on the real purpose of why we are here, what is it that you plan to do?"

"I was hoping to get the American people to help us out," Keppel sighed.

"Ingenious idea," Zechs commented. "How would we go about it?"

"I'm not so sure we ought to," Keppel replied. "The fate of the nation does rest in their hands…"

"And why shouldn't we involve them?" Zechs demanded, frowning.

"The people in whom we protect, whose liberties that we fight and die for, they aren't the same batch who engaged in a fight for their freedom two hundred years ago," Keppel said sorrowfully. "They're lazy, egocentric slobs who hate change when it was change that we were fighting for during the Revolution. Yet, it is these slobs who carry the fate of this nation on their shoulders. We can preach, shout out their rights that will be trampled on, the duties that they themselves must uphold and even if we do all that and try to spearhead the rebellion that we are trying to initiate, will these people, these slobs get off their fat asses and help? Or will they remain seated, support us but do nothing that will actually help? How can we motivate a group of people who are more likely to vote for who is to be the next 'American Idol' than the next 'President of the United States'?

"Don't give me an answer right now Lieutenant. I want you to think and think real hard about your answer but don't take too long. Time is not our ally and the more time we waste, the more time it gives Septum to dig in his trenches and prepare for us."

Zechs listened to the experienced general, slightly caught off guard by the amount of knowledge he had just given to him. The blond officer was more than ready to refute the argument but the more he thought about it, the more he had to admit that Keppel had a point. The Americans of today were too invested in themselves to care about anything else. Selfishness and greed were the requisites of the day and you needed one or the other to get ahead in society.

"Faith," he suddenly spoke up, only Keppel catching it. "We must have faith in the people, just as much as they have in us."

"A fine argument except that I highly doubt anyone other than Washington and XAI know about us," Keppel said wryly.

"XAI?" Zechs repeated, frowning.

"I'm not as ignorant as some people might think," Keppel chuckled. "I've known about Project Maxwell and the contract to XAI. That's the only one of the Big Three that Septum deals with so it's not much of a leap in logic to expect that they have a hand in all this. It wouldn't be the first time one of them overthrew a government. The Big Three have a better track record with that than the C.I.A. which is sad."

"So you're saying we're fighting a two front war, huh?" Zechs mused.

"Not only are we fighting to free the homeland, we're also fighting for the hearts and minds of the people, hearts and minds that XAI will do their utmost to corrupt," Keppel said. "That's why time's not on our side. We need to come up with a plan and implement it as soon as possible. Otherwise, we won't even be a footnote in the history books if there are any left."

"Then we'll need information," he spoke up, his blue eyes becoming determined. "Trieze ought to be more than aware of the enemy's movements. He can tell us what Septum and XAI are up to and we can prepare to not only deal with it but counter it as well."

Keppel frowned and looked away. "Do as you wish, Lieutenant. In the meantime, I need to get this ruckus under control before anything harmful can be born from it."

Zechs noticed the distaste in the General's voice but he didn't point it out. Instead, he chose to leave the tent and head back to his. Keppel may not like Trieze but the man meant well. He hadn't planned on any of this happening and was doing his best to fix it. Why couldn't the General understand this?

Looks like he was going to have to prove to him of Trieze's sincerity and that was a mission that he was determined to complete.

---

Dorothy didn't like that cough but no matter what she tried to do about it, Wufei would always dismiss it and her concerns. She did not recall him coughing the first time she had met him, as brief and inconsequential as it was, so she figured that this was a more recent occurrence.

Now, if only she could get the hardheaded male to admit it.

That was easier said than done, of course. Both she and Relena had been trying to get him to mention where exactly he was taking them but even then he hadn't said anything. All either of them knew was that he was taking them away from Los Angeles and that was good enough for Relena. For Dorothy, it wasn't enough, not that she wasn't grateful.

She had had her entire life up to this point torn apart and shredded before her very eyes all because a few corporate bastards enjoyed playing with people's lives like they were chess pieces.

Enough was enough! She wanted control of her life back and she was almost at the point that she didn't care who she had to plow over to do so. It was just so frustrating how out of control everything had gone in the past few weeks. And it didn't help that she was constantly being pushed around by pigheaded guys!

"Considering telling us where we're going yet?" she demanded dryly at the back of their Chinese guide.

"Not at all," Wufei answered, a cough escaping him momentarily. "Now be quiet and stop bothering me."

"Do as he says Dorothy," Relena sighed from behind her. "It's a waste of time trying to debate with him. I doubt he's going to be leading us to a trap, especially since he took the trouble to rescue us earlier."

Not replying to that, Dorothy just crossed her arms and grumbled to herself. Relena just didn't seem to get it! Did she lose some of her spirit when Heero died? She wouldn't be surprised since the two of them had been attached at the hip. Sigh, why was she being so bitter over that? Just because she never had a boyfriend of her own…man was she lonely…

"Watch where you're going!" Wufei suddenly snapped at her when she accidently ran into his back, unaware that he had stopped.

"Well it's your fault for stopping in front of me!" Dorothy retorted angrily, mad at herself for being too lost in her own thoughts to have noticed Wufei's sudden stop.

"Cool it you two," Relena intervened. "Isn't it too early for you two to be at each other's throats?"

"Not at all," Wufei replied coolly. "A warrior must be prepared to fight at all times."

"Even if that includes allies?" Dorothy deadpanned.

"Who said you were my ally?" Wufei countered. "I'm just leading you two women to a haven where you don't have to be involved with any of this. You have no place in this and it's not even your fight to begin with. So please pipe down and let me not regret rescuing you."

"Well excuse us for breathing," Dorothy said heatedly.

"You're excused," Wufei replied.

As Dorothy steamed from the insult, Relena looked to be on the verge of tears. And no, it wasn't because of the insult but of the animosity that was enveloping them. Hadn't they fought enough already? It would appear not as the bickering would continue for the next hour or so as Wufei led them into a suburb.

Stopping once more, the Chinese youth picked Relena up bridal style and said, "Keep up if you can," to Dorothy. Next thing either of the two girls knew, Wufei was leaping over a fence into someone's backyard, leaving Dorothy gaping after them.

Now, any smart person would have gone to the front of the house and tried their best to follow the sight of a leaping Chinaman but even Dorothy had her share of brain farts and this occasion was no exception.

She climbed over the fence, not an easy task as the fence didn't have grips or holes that she could stick her fingers or feet in but after some struggle, she finally made it. Dropping to the ground like a sack of potatoes, she looked up just in time to see Wufei leaping over the other side of the fence and she groaned.

_Not another one…_

A couple backyards and a torn and dirty outfit later, Dorothy found herself in a yard that was occupied by an old oriental man. Oddly enough, the man was gesturing to her, as if he had been expecting her. Too tired to examine the stupidity of what she was about to do, she trudged over to the man who chuckled at her.

"Wufei does not have much courtesy," he said apologetically. "Then again, I wouldn't have climbed over various fences to get over here. I would've gone out front and waited until he reached the house then knock on the front door."

Dorothy could only stare back at the man flabbergasted.

"Come in, let's get you changed," the man said as he turned to go into the house. "I'll have a talk with my nephew over the proper way to treat ladies while you wash up."


	12. Pawn Takes Knight

Author's Note: Just a little of the usual this time: twists, fights to the death, and Solo being Solo. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death

Pawn Takes Knight

It was the early hours of morning when Trieze first heard the knocking on the door. He jerked his head off from its perch on the couch, his eyes blinking wearily even as he held up a gun towards the wooden barrier.

Now who could this be? It had only been a few hours ago that he had given his intelligence to Zechs…had someone caught on already? Maybe it was Une…but then why would she be knocking on the door at this time of the day? The sun hadn't even come out and the clock on the wall revealed it to be a much earlier hour than was usual for the Lieutenant.

Slowly, he pushed himself off the couch and stalked quietly to the door. Pressing his body against the door, he cursed silently to himself that there wasn't a peephole. He could at least have a clue as to who was bothering him right now.

Lowering the gun just enough so that it wouldn't be noticed, he unlocked the door and twisted the knob, opening the only thing between him and this visitor.

Getting a good look at the man outside, he immediately pulled his gun up and demanded, "Who the hell are you?!"

"Put that gun down Trieze," the elder man snapped at him, grabbing Trieze's hand and pushing it to a side so that the younger man wouldn't have a shot on him. "Damn it, we're on the same side!"

"But you're dead," he accused.

Sighing, the large figure that was Admiral Nathaniel Noventa put his hand to his temples. "Can I come in first? I don't think we should let the rest of the city know about this."

Eyes narrowing, Trieze moved to the side and allowed the figure of his former mentor in, closing and locking the door behind him and aiming the gun straight at the other man's head.

"Give me a damn good reason why I shouldn't put two in your head right now," he growled.

"Don't you think this is a bit over the top, Trieze?" Noventa said dryly, peeking at the Colonel from the corner of his eye.

"No, not really," Trieze replied, cocking his gun. "Your reason, please."

"My family's dead, Trieze," Noventa said. "I was called off to an emergency at the nearest base; they were experiencing some trouble, as you told me, and while I was gone, someone attacked my home and burned it to the ground. I don't know if Sylvia was able to get out but I haven't found her yet."

Unsettled slightly, especially since Noventa had gotten the part where he had called him the night of his death, Trieze forced himself to remain calm and not reveal anything. "And what happened to you? How did you survive when I was told you were dead?"

"I was taken from behind and my throat was slit on the way to the base," Noventa answered. "I was left for dead on the side of the road…wait, who told you I was dead?"

This time, Trieze found himself in the line of fire and he was reasonable flustered. How could he tell this man that he had been up to over the past few years, doing things that he would definitely frown on? He still had his suspicions about this man but the more he spoke, the less aggressive Trieze found himself becoming.

"Are you going to lower your gun, Trieze?" Noventa spoke, not turning around.

Trieze hesitated. He was unsure if he should continue holding this man at bay or put away his firearm. On one hand, this was the man who he looked up to. On the other, this man was suppose to be dead; that had been confirmed by Mr. Romafellor himself and that man rarely if ever made mistakes.

"Turn around," he suddenly said as a thought occurred to him.

"Excuse me?" Noventa said, turning his head to get a better look at the Colonel.

"You heard me," Trieze said. "Turn around."

Slowly, Noventa complied and there Trieze saw something, a discrepancy.

"You said you had your throat slit," he said, eyes narrowing.

"Yes," Noventa answered, frowning.

"Then where's your scar?" Trieze asked. "A wound like that always leaves a scar."

Noventa blinked at him, his eyes suddenly widening at the Colonel's implications. Suddenly, the Admiral threw his head back and released a loud laugh, one that took Trieze by surprise.

"You really don't miss much, do you?" Noventa laughed, his features melting and changing until he looked like a tall blond teenager with green eyes and a look of confidence.

Trieze could only stare in shock, his hesitation giving the shapeshifter the opportunity he needed. The blond boy hit the gun out of the Colonel's hand and leapt into the air, his body twisting as he delivered a kick swiftly into the left side of Trieze's face. Trieze felt himself stumbling to the floor, the man catching himself on his hands and knees. He hadn't the chance to do anything as the blond boy behind him slammed into his back harshly, a muscled arm wrapping around his neck.

Knowing if he let the boy get him into a hold that would finish him, Trieze rolled the over and threw his head back, the back of his skull slamming into the boy's face. He grabbed the boy's arm and tore it off him, the Colonel jumping back to his feet and putting some distance between him and the assassin.

Quickly, his eyes scanned the room, searching for his gun but he may have devoted too much attention to the task as the boy had gotten back to his feet and had charged into him. Bracing himself at the last second, Trieze managed not to fall back but then the boy chuckled ominously.

"Looking for something?" he taunted and the sudden sound of gunfire filled Trieze's ears as well as a sharp stab of pain in his chest. The bullet exited from his back but that wouldn't be the only one as a couple more shots were fired into him, the bullets tearing through and out of him.

A moment later, he fell to the floor, his vision darkening as he slowly entered the soothing waters of death.

Meanwhile, the boy let himself have a moment to laugh at his victim's fall, twirling the gun around a long finger as he nudged the corpse with a foot.

"Stupid," he chuckled. "Of course I would know how Noventa died. I was there when the bossman killed him."

With another chuckle, the weapon known as Copy Chris melding and shifted, now becoming the form of the deceased Colonel who laid at his feet.

Speaking with Trieze Khushrenada's cultured voice, he said, "Now let's see how much damage you have caused…"

---

"Who'd have ever thought that Khushrenada was an ol' snake in the grass, just like us," Septum guffawed. "To think he was playing _everybody_! Even us!"

"I wouldn't be laughing it up now," Xavien hissed from the video feed projected on the television screen. "Who knows to what extent he has sabotaged us? The shapeshifter ought to get an estimate but the fact that he gave information to Romafellor and Winner…if he wasn't dead, I'd volunteer him to begin a guinea pig for Project Maxwell, the prick."

"Aw, you're just pissed someone one upped you," Septum sneered. "But haven't you gotten rid of those two yet? What harm could come from them anymore? However, I'll give you one thing: who knows what the extent of Khushrenada's treachery has gone?"

"Precisely, General," Xavien growled.

"Why don't you just focus on fixing things on your end and let me deal with things here?" Septum suggested. "Knowing Khushrenada as we do now, there's a good chance he was working with Keppel somehow. If we use whatever influence he may have had, we can turn the tables and get rid of the rebellion before it can do any more harm."

Xavien seemed to think over what Septum had said, his fingers tapping against one another before he said anything. "Very well," he spoke up. "I'll let you handle things in the capital but you better take care of things because I won't be able to save your ass this time."

"There won't even be a need," Septum claimed as he rudely cut off the transmission.

---

The quiet of the commons rooms was soundly interrupted by the sound of a fist slamming into the wall and creating a spider web of cracks beneath it.

Lazily, the black eyes of the weapon Abaddon slid over to look at the sight of an enraged redheaded Michael. Staring at the muscular other, Abaddon turned his eyes away to continue staring into space as if all the going-ons were a waste of his time.

Everything was a waste of time; no matter how hard you struggled or how hard you clung to life, death was inevitable. The final ending, the ultimate estrangement if you will. So to say that he had any concern over Michael's display of anger was nothing short of an entire lie.

Michael could do whatever the hell he wanted; the outcome would remain the same.

However, Michael continued to bluster about, swinging his fists to and fro as he tried to work off steam that Abaddon could have told him that wouldn't go away using that method. It got to the point that he nearly slammed his fist into a carving in the wall, one that had been given tender care and single-minded attention by the art obsessed Pike.

The white haired boy actually left his little world to frown up at Michael, as if the redhead had committed some grave offense. Michael, on the other hand, was heedless of this and eventually Abaddon got to the point that even he was getting annoyed.

"Something on your mind?" he spoke up in a near monotone voice.

"Can you believe that we were just ditched here?!" Michael snapped as he slammed his fist into a table, the wooden surface snapping beneath his anger enhanced strength. "Why the hell is the bossman keeping us here while those pussies and that suck-up get to have all the fun, huh? He gave everyone else a second chance, even those losers Jason and Mobias!"

"I feel your pain," Abaddon said though there wasn't even a hint of empathy in his voice. Complete apathy, that would be the word to describe him.

"You're not listening to me, are you?" Michael growled, his eyes narrowing and his muscles quivering as they grew a fraction of a millimeter.

"Whatever gave you that clue?" Abaddon replied, not at all scared or intimidated.

"Why are you so worried about it?" Pike piped up, not looking at the other two but at his carved work in the wall, an image of a Byzantine ruler in the traditional Byzantine style. Hmm, the eyes needed a little bit of work here and there and maybe a few more curls would work…

"And you're not?" Michael demanded, whirling around to glare at the pale boy.

"Not really," Pike shrugged, extending one of his marble-claw fingernails to scrap more detail into his work.

"Why should we care?" Abaddon added. "The results are going to be the same no matter if we're there or not."

"I'm surrounded by fuckers," Michael growled as he stomped away from the two.

Not at all bothered by the leaving of the irritable redhead, Abaddon chose to redirect his attention towards Pike's work of art. As sure as he was about everything, he knew that not even that carving was destined to remain for long but hey, at least it was something worth looking at.

---

"So what's the plan, Victor?" Serbiak drawled. The darkness of the night combined with the dim light of the electrical lantern gave the mercenary a malevolent appearance, one that was only slightly diminished by the fact that he was leaning back with his hands behind his head, a burp escaping his throat.

Releasing a belch of his own, Katsaris replied, "I was just thinking about the usual."

"Overwhelming violence and an expensive amount of property damage?" Serbiak guessed.

"I was thinking more of an aerial assault to keep the target in sight as well as provide us with some distance so as to prevent the target from closing in on us," Katsaris said. "We'll have missiles, guns, the works and the target won't even get the chance to defend himself. It'll be like taking candy from a baby."

"So you know where the target's gonna be?"

"Some scrapyard," Katsaris shrugged. "We'll keep an eye on him for a bit before attacking; just need to be sure we can get in and out as quickly as possible."

"And then it's paycheck time," Serbiak grinned as he reached into a nearby cooler, pulling out a Budweiser and popping the tab open.

Watching the mercenary take a swig of his beer, Katsaris smirked at the other's action. "Don't drink too much; we're heading out tomorrow," the General said. "Get some rest while you can, and that's an order."

"Whatever," Serbiak mocked, taking another chug from his beer can.

---

It hadn't taken long for Howard to make up his mind. He had only two choices and there was only one he could take.

He chose to house the drugs.

In the midst's of a drunken stupor, he had called up Troy to give him his answer. After that, he had passed out, the phone receiver still against the side of his head and Troy barking at him, demanding him to answer him.

It was the sound of the dial tone that woke the old man up and combine that with a hangover, the old man was not in the best of moods. There was only one thing that could help with this.

He grabbed the nearest bottle and took a deep swallow. Ah, that was it. A few more swallows later, his headache was beginning to fade and allow him to think more clearly, or at least as clearly as alcohol would permit.

Ugh, what had he been thinking about before he passed out? He had a sore neck that just wouldn't pop and his body was protesting every move he made. This is what happened whenever he didn't go to sleep in his nice and comfortable bed…

"Hey old man!" a voice bellowed from the front of the house. "There's some guys here to see you! Get off your fat ass already!"

Damn it, who in the hell was making that racket? His hangover hadn't gone away completely so he was still suffering from the debilitating effects and he was in no condition to be entertaining people right now. Getting to his unsteady feet, he trudged towards the front door, moving at a snail's pace through the hallway and living room.

Along the way, he encountered a disgruntled Solo, the blond eyeing him with a piercing look as if he was invading the old man's soul. Was it his imagination or did those green eyes flash amber? Eh, he was probably hallucinating.

Arriving at the open front door, he wished the sight he saw was a hallucination as well but he knew better. Either Troy had gotten impatient and sent his goons over here to rough him up or he had gotten his call during the night and had sent his goons over here to insure he wouldn't change his mind.

"Hold on a minute," he slurred to the thugs, barely turning his body as he yelled back into the house, "Going out for a bit! Don't make a mess!"

After getting a "yeah, yeah" in return, he crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him. "So what's up?" he questioned.

"Here with the stuff, where do we take 'um?" one of the thugs said, arms crossed over his chest.

Frowning in thought, he gestured for them to follow after him. "This way," he said as he stumbled ahead of them. Hadn't been a few minutes and he was already craving another drink. If only he had thought to bring the bottle with him…

---

Watching Howard lead the men away from the house, Solo did not take his eyes off from the window he peered through. He didn't like those people who had shown up all of a sudden; they had the look of drugdealers and Solo was positive on that since he had met quite a few of them while living on the streets. The arrogance in which they held themselves and the way they imposed themselves on the blond had been clue enough for him yet they were also something more.

They were probably organized crime or at least a strong local group from what he could tell. Howard didn't seem to be afraid of them but by the way he was stumbling around and the fact that Hilde had told him he had been a recovering alcoholic, he could guess what was causing that.

"You think you can keep it down?" a tired and irritated voice spoke up from behind him. Glancing behind himself to see a sleep deprived Hilde, Solo shrugged his shoulders and focused his attention back on the window in front of him. "Some people are _trying_ to get some sleep around here," Hilde continued.

"Not my fault you stayed up all night," Solo replied. "Shoulda gone ta bed sooner."

"Asshole," Hilde hissed at him before stomping away.

Waiting until he could no longer hear the girl, he crept away from his post and headed for the back door in the kitchen. From there, he followed after Howard and his unexpected posse. It wasn't like it would be hard since none of them were making any attempt to conceal their movements since they were walking about in broad daylight. Calling upon the old street skills that he hadn't utilized in years, the blond snuck after them, keeping out of sight at all times and not making a sound.

Less than a minute later, Solo found himself spying on the group, Howard gesturing wildly with his arms as he yelled at the men, said men looking as if they were staring at him. Solo couldn't make out the drunken rant despite the volume of it and unfortunately, the assholes with Howard seemed to get self conscious and speak in lower tones of voices, the blond thus not being able to hear anything above a mumble.

The sight of a large truck coming into view caught the blond's attention and he waited as the vehicle was directed off further into the scrapyard, Howard stomping away from the group of men suddenly, cursing up a storm. Huh, he hadn't heard that one before…

Wanting to keep a closer eye on the truck, Solo crept after it, doing his best not to be caught. The ol' streetrat skills were coming in handy all right; it was as if these guys were dumbass amateurs. They didn't keep up their guards and they were paying attention to their surroundings at all. Solo knew that he could strike now but he chose instead to wait, prey on these idiots a while longer until the time was right and they were at their most vulnerable.

He didn't have to wait too long for that. The truck stopped in front of a collection of abandoned and scrapped storage sheds, some of which had literally fallen apart. The sound of the truck's engine being cut off only served to make Solo's predatory grin widen, even as one of the men began complaining about the sheds they had found.

Sneaking up from behind, Solo pounced on the man in the back, the one whom nobody was paying attention to and dragged him further away, a hand clamped iron shut on the man's mouth and an arm wrapping around his body and arms. Once the blond had judged they were a fair distance away from the others, he shove the man in his grasp into the ground and crossed his arms over his chest, awaiting the foul language that was about to be spewed at him.

"Who the fuck are you?!" the man shouted. "And what the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

"I dun know, you tell me," Solo replied.

"Smartass!" the man growled as he pulled out his gun. Grabbing the barrel of the weapon, Solo twisted it so that it was pointed directly at the man, the man himself staring in shock until Solo grabbed him by his throat and lifted him off his feet.

"Smartass, huh?" Solo drawled. "Well, how 'bout ya tell what you guys are doin' here and I'll go easy on ya. How 'bout it?"


	13. Machinations

Author's Note: It's been slow going lately but aren't you glad I write chapters in advance? It's just a funk for now but it should be passing soon.

As for this chapter, a lot of stuff is happening, things are getting set up, a new weapon is introduced, etc... For those of you who have been so generous as to give me OCs, take a guess who I'm using why don't'cha? Nothing special is going to be given out this time around so it's just for kicks, if not an opportunity to get more reviews for this fic. I am so lonely... Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language

Machinations

Howard was good when it came to ignoring things, so when confronted with the wide eyes of the children under his care, he immediately looked away and headed to his private room, the floor littered with empty bottles that he kicked to a side in his search for an unempty one. His search was a frustrating one as he could not find _one_ bottle that had some booze still in it and getting on his hands and knees was not an easy chore.

"What does a guy gotta do around here to get a drink?" he muttered to himself.

Suddenly, he found himself pulled right off the floor, his feet dangling a good foot above it. The old man was in shock but then his blood started to catch up with the rest of his body and he suddenly felt all the energy leave him as he became dizzy. It took him a couple minutes to realize two amber eyes were glaring into him but when he did, the things he was about to utter died on his tongue.

Solo, the large boy with the extraordinary strength, was seriously pissed off, and for what reason Howard didn't know. As if he weighed nothing at all, Solo carried him back towards the kitchen, holding onto the man by the back of his shirt. Coming to the breakfast table, Solo practically forced him into a chair and before he could say anything about the rough treatment, the blond slammed a brick sized clear package on the table.

And he paled as he knew what it was.

"What da hell is this doing here?" Solo growled down at him. For some reason, the boy's naturally green eyes that were now amber were glowing but the old man was going to chalk that one up to being buzzed. There was no way Solo's eyes were amber and that they were glowing of all things.

"Get your head outta your ass and answer me!" Solo roared, the blond looking as if he wanted to pulverize something. Howard had the feeling that if he didn't answer, that something was going to be him.

"You think I could have something to drink first?" he asked hesitantly.

Solo's eyes flashed and the anger gave the old man his answer. "Do ya want me ta shove this shit down your throat?"

"It's a deal, okay?" he blurted out. "I had no choice—"

"That's what they all say," Solo snarked.

"It's the truth!" Howard defended. "The guy that wants to hide that shit here…he lent me some money some time ago and now he's here to collect. I have to do this else he'll not only destroy the scrapyard but he'll kill the kids too! What else could I do?"

"They'd be better off dead than living and getting addicted to this shit," Solo growled in reply. "Do you know what this shit does?"

"More than you know," Howard answered solemnly.

"Then why agree to it, even though ya know the kids you're tryin' ta protect here are gonna OD on it anyway?" Solo demanded.

"They have no other place to go!" Howard shouted at him, his frustration and lowered inhibitions finally getting the best of him. "They have no parents! None of them! And the orphanages? The closest one was shut down by the government and none of those assholes care either! And what's more, all the foster homes they've been in were horrible! It would be a crime to send them back there!"

"So they had some tough times, big deal," Solo countered. "I lived on da streets half my life in a place where it rained most of da time. I woulda _loved_ ta have been in one of those homes. At least I woulda had a roof over my head."

"You would rather be abused by strangers who don't care about you?" Howard asked critically.

"It's too late for that!" Solo retorted. "How da hell do ya think I got this strong in da first place? Compared ta that place, those foster homes are a walk in da park!"

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Howard stated.

"Oh, and you do Mr. Drug Smuggler?" Solo replied.

"That was uncalled for." Howard deflated in his seat, looking smaller and more vulnerable than Solo had ever seen him.

Solo, however, continued mercilessly. "So what? At least I'm not thinkin' 'bout myself. You're just using those kids as a reason to give in is what you're doin'. Didn't it ever occur ta ya ta ask for help?"

"How can I when those thugs own the police?" Howard snapped.

"They don't own me," Solo said defiantly.

Howard was aghast. "You can't be serious! They'd tear you apart!"

"Like ta see them try," Solo snorted. "I'm more than I seem, old man. Just tell me where they are and I'll take care of this."

"Do you have a deathwish?!" Howard cried, looking at the teen in horror. "I can't in good conscious do that!"

"But ya can house drugs?" Solo replied wryly, getting another low blow. "You got some screwed up priorities, man."

With that, the blond left Howard, the old mechanic bowing his head down in shame.

---

It was needless to say that Solo was still pissed off. He had expected more out of the old man but the guy just has to cave in at the slightest bit of pressure. He'd bail him out this time but the next one he was on his own…

"You weren't serious about going after those guys, were?" Hilde asked from his side, the girl popping up out of nowhere.

Solo glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "I ain't bluffin' if that's what your worried 'bout."

"But you can't!" Hilde exclaimed, throwing herself onto the blond who raised his hands up to hold her. "They'll kill you! No one fights back against them!"

"Can they throw fireballs, make tornados, beat you up with the sound of their voice, or heal quickly?" Solo asked dryly.

"W-what?" Hilde asked, blinking at him in confusion. "No! Those things are impossible. Why would you ask such a thing?!"

"Good, ya had me worried for a second," Solo answered. "These guys are just pussies. Took care of a bunch of them a few minutes ago. They can't take a punch ta save their lives. If ya know where I can find those guys, tell me now. It'll save a lot of time lookin' for them."

"But—" Hilde began to protest only to be cut off.

"Either help me or get out of my way," he snapped, pulling her away from him and setting her aside. "What's it gonna be?"

Hilde looked forlornly into the unnaturally amber eyes that she had only seen in a green shade. She knew that he wasn't a normal person but sending him into the lion's den like this? She might as well be committing murder. Yet, the determination she saw in those eyes also told her that he wasn't going to be taking no for an answer. Well, her life had been all right, what did she have to lose anyway?

"I'll take you there," she sighed.

Smirking, Solo replied, "Knew ya see it my way."

---

"Pack it up, we're moving out!" Katsaris' voice thundered, men running to and fro to obey his orders. Serbiak was not one of those and thus was still wiping the sleep out of his eyes.

"What's going on?" he demanded, not even looking remotely threatening.

"The target's on the move," Katsaris answered from behind him, startling the mercenary. "I want this to go down now; enough with waiting."

"I thought you wanted to observe him more," Serbiak said sarcastically.

"If you're not ready to leave in the next two minutes, you can kiss your paycheck goodbye," Katsaris replied, vanishing into the hectic crowd.

Well, if that wasn't a wakeup call…

---

"Interesting," the deep voice that could only have belonged to Xavien's right hand man spoke up.

"What is it?" another voice asked.

"The General is on the move again," Malkov answered. Lowering the small device in his hand, he allowed his comrade to look at it. What could be seen was a magnified image of Katsaris' camp as it was being broken down. With a single touch, Malkov could magnify the image even further so that he could spy directly on the General himself.

Yes, it was no secret that XAI owned and operated multiple satellites up in Earth's orbit but only what a select handful of people knew was that a few of those satellites weren't up there for commercial use.

Spy satellites. Originally planned to be used to spy on XAI's corporate rivals and politicians who had the potential to be persuaded to XAI's side, they had come quite in handy when tracking the movements of 11085 and 12093 and then later 15555 and rediscovering the missing 10615's whereabouts. Knowing that the latter two had chosen to go rogue had peeved Mr. Xavien but it wasn't something that couldn't be handled. For the moment, the two new rogues would be left alone until other more pressing matters were attended to.

Such as assassinating General Victor Katsaris.

He wasn't Mr. Xavien's right hand man for nothing. He was good at what he did and he had never failed him before. Nor would he ever. Whenever a situation was brought up where Mr. Xavien either wasn't able to do something or couldn't do something because of other matters, it would be him who would deal with it. That was always how it had been since the beginning and that was how it would remain after.

"So what's the plan?" the weapon next to him asked. "Are we going to wait here until they're done or what?"

"Patience," Malkov intoned with his deep voice, not in the least put off. "We must make sure that the target is in a position just so that he won't be able to escape and tell on us to General Septum. Timing is everything."

"So we're just going to wait here?" the weapon said sarcastically. "Oh joy."

"I did not say that," Malkov replied smoothly. "As soon as we rendezvous with Mordred, we're going after them, don't get impatient. Otherwise the mission will end in failure and Mr. Xavien is not going to be lenient this far in the game as he has been in the past. Our moment will come in due time, there's no need to rush."

The weapon huffed in reply but said nothing else. Malkov easily ignored him as he refocused his attention to the tracking device in his hand.

"Where are you going, General?" he murmured to himself, his mind calculating like a predator hunting its prey. "Where is it you wish to die?"

---

"If I was an evil megalomaniac, where would I be?"

Despite the absurdity of this question, this was precisely the very words that were uttered by the surviving Quatre Winner. It had only been less than two days since the attack on WEI that left his father dead but the blond adult was already thinking of options he had to strike back at those responsible. He could put two and two together and had already figured that it had been XAI, or at least Xavien, who had ordered the attack.

That had been the easy part; actually finding out where Xavien physically was, however, was a whole different thing. It was obvious to him that the man was making his move to take over; already he had the government of the United States in his back pocket and it was only a matter of time until he had control over the private sector.

The way things were going, he would literally rule the world.

Not before he had Xavien's head on a platter first. That bastard had an appointment with the devil and by God he was going to make sure he got there on time. Whenever he wasn't strategizing or getting his hands on information that would lead him to Xavien's whereabouts, he was perfecting his already impressive physique and building up his repertoire of fighting skills. There was very little rest between those though, something that worried his men to no end.

In fact, one of the last remaining leaders of the Maguanacs, Auda, had expressed vocally his and his men's concern over him. Quatre parried these worries easily, fully intent on striking back at XAI that anything that happened to get in his way would be mowed over. There was no time for rest! Every moment spent wasted on rest was just another moment Xavien's existence offended him.

Currently he was staring down at a spread out map of the North American continent, his hardened blue eyes scanning every single detail on the map for any clue as to where Xavien was holing up. The task was becoming so frustrating that he was beginning to wear out the stress ball that he was squeezing.

Despite his attention being solely held by the map, he was aware of the fez wearing, curly haired Auda coming up to his side and he knew exactly what the man was going to say to him. He already had a reply ready to give so that was one less thing to occupy his already over-exhausted mental capacities.

"No."

Auda blinked at him in a stupor, something that would have made Quatre quirk a smile a couple days ago but brought no such response now. He was a man on a mission; a vengeful man devoted to finding the man responsible for turning his life upside down and rending that bastard apart limb by limb.

"Excuse me, Master Quatre?" Auda said, his voice colored in confusion.

"I'm not going to be taking a break any time soon," Quatre elaborated, all the while not taking his eyes off the map he was studying.

"It doesn't hurt to try," the Arabian man sighed.

"Is that all?" Quatre asked curtly.

"Other than the fact that we have yet to find out where Xavien is hiding, no," Auda answered.

That got an unexpected reaction out of the blond as he violently smashed his clenched fist onto the table. "GODDAMN IT!" he roared. "What the hell can he be hiding?! How can someone hide something like Project Maxwell and not have at least _something_ give it away!"

"I'm sure someone in the organization ought to know where he is…" Auda trailed, not finishing as he saw his employer's rage nearly skyrocket.

"Oh there's someone all right," Quatre agreed angrily. "The only problem is that all the XAI employees we've taken were completely worthless! Even those that did have knowledge of the program! It's insane how every single one of them weren't able to tell us anything more than what we already know!"

"There's has to be at least one person," Auda insisted though he seemed to lack conviction. "We just need to look harder is all, Master Quatre. How about you take a break, five minutes maximum?"

Quatre was ready to explode. He had had it up to here with all the Maguanacs trying to get him to rest! He almost rather preferred the insulting company of that one annoying survivor of the program, Jason Ciliars! And that would be saying…a lot…

His eyes widened. Why hadn't he thought of this before! Of course he would know where Xavien's base was! How could he have overlooked something like that before!

Jason fucking Ciliars was his key to finding Xavien.

Now all he had to do was find the son of a bitch before XAI did.

Snapping his head up, his eyes alight with rekindled determinism, he proclaimed, "We have a new priority. Redirect everything to locating that missing program survivor. The objective is to find him before XAI does and the quicker we find him, the better. We find Jason, we find Xavien. Is everyone clear on that?"

The surrounding burly men, who had stopped the very second their blond leader had spoken, gave him a salute before becoming a moving swarm again, beginning their new task and informing others of it.

Smirking in satisfaction, Quatre turned towards Auda and said, "You know, I think I may just take a little break."


	14. What Solo Does Best

Author's Note: Here marks the beginning of a long action scene…

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence

What Solo Does Best

"Shit's going down."

Those were the first words spoken to Septum that morning as he entered the Oval Office to be greeted by Xavien's weapons. It had been the short one, Rex, who had peeped up and the General could only stare at the boy in confusion.

"What the hell is that suppose to mean?" he growled.

It was the taller one, Brett, who answered him. "A large crowd of people suddenly showed up and started throwing shit at your men."

"Probably Keppel and his awesome army," Septum groused.

"No, it was normal people," Brett stated, surprising the General. "They were throwing rocks and bottles, so our guys shot back at them. Then they started shooting back and it turned into a mess."

"Damn Second Amendment," Septum grumbled. "So what's the status now?"

"We won," Rex said blithefully.

When nothing else was forthcoming, Septum said, "So…?"

"We kicked their asses," Rex shrugged. "Bunch of dead people though."

"And where were you this whole time?" Septum questioned, a tic developing in his eye.

"Waiting for you," Brett answered unconcerned.

"Waiting…" Septum gasped out before he blew up. "Why the hell weren't you two out there?!"

"We were ordered to follow you around and help you take over," Brett said bluntly. "We weren't told to do anything about crap like this. Besides, you didn't order us either so we decided it was none of our business."

"None of your…of course it's your business!" Septum thundered. "If I get ousted, what the hell do you think is going to happen to you?!"

"Never thought of that," Rex replied.

"Well you better start soon," Septum snarled, "or else it's going to be all our asses on the fire! It's not going to be me who's strung up should they get in here!"

"Then why don't you do something useful and declare martial law?" Brett retorted. "You're in charge now, ain't'cha? You want people to obey you, you're gonna have to make them."

"Smart ass," Septum growled back, not wanting to concede that the little shit had a point. "Get Copy Chris in here," he ordered. "I want to get this so-called rebellion under control first, make an example of those who dare oppose me."

"You're the boss," Rex shrugged, not even moving from the chair behind the Resolute Desk.

---

"I don't know whether to be surprised that we had people attack the capital or the fact that Septum's men shot back at them," Keppel sighed, his old age beginning to show. Beyond the tent in which he was situated, the darkness of the night was slowly being chased away by the dim light of dawn.

"This is what you wanted, correct?" Zechs pointed out.

"Be careful with what you wish for," Keppel mumbled. "Apparently this country does have some nutjobs willing to do something."

"I don't think it's polite that you call them nutjobs," Noin said. "We need all the help we can get and can't afford to alienate people."

"Point, but do we really want all the extremists doing the work?" Keppel asked. "Septum is an extremist and nothing good can ever come from extremists in power. I was hoping that more moderates would respond and help take up the fight."

"Then we'll have to make do with what we have," Noin said.

"In the meantime, we're going to have to do something about Septum before he becomes further entrenched," Zechs picked up, gesturing to a map lit up only by the dullness of the dawn sunlight.

"Of course," Keppel sighed. "So what does the wise Trieze Khushrenada report from behind enemy lines?"

"I don't think now's a good time to be picking at Colonel Khushrenada," Noin stated. "But so far, everything is quiet on his end."

"So either that means something is going on that Septum's trying to keep under wraps or there really is nothing going on," Zechs continued.

"A sign of arrogance, stupidity, or a strategy to lull us into a state of confidence," Keppel defined. "I know this is probably a bad decision, but perhaps we ought to take the chance and try and put an end to this."

Both the Lieutenants frowned at the General. "That would be what Septum would be looking for," Zechs stated.

"That's where Khushrenada comes in," Keppel replied. "He'll tell us the best point of entry for us and what to avoid. He is able to provide us with that information, correct?"

---

Howard needed to get out of the house and away from the innocent looks that the children were giving him, asking what was the matter and was he feeling bad? Knowing what he was a part of, Howard couldn't take the attention and needed to get out of there.

So, stumbling out in the yard with a nearly empty bottle of gin in one hand, he headed towards the garage. At least there he could get some privacy and get away from those naïve faces, faces that he couldn't bear to be around at the moment. He knew he was risking his house becoming a disaster zone but anything to give himself some sort of peace of mind.

Entering the garage, he stopped dead in his tracks, wondering why he felt something was wrong with this picture. Something was missing, he was sure of it. The tools were still where they were, everything else was still in their places, so what could possibly be wrong?

Then it hit him.

"Who took my fucking truck?!"

---

He was an indestructible, property damaging, nearly fearless, and completely reckless weapon created for the sole purpose of destroying things yet Solo had found something that really made him doubt that his invincibility was perfect.

Hilde was driving.

Badly.

Now, Solo had been thrown through buildings, thrown out of a moving pickup, burned with acid, pummeled until he was a wall ornament, but sitting in the passenger seat while Hilde was driving really took the cake.

"Watch the curve!" he shouted as the girl made a sharp turn, nearly slamming the side of Howard's stolen truck into another car but barely grazing the side of it.

"I know what I'm doing," Hilde shot back. "Stop side seat driving!"

Eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets as he eyed the speedometer that showed them going at ninety miles per hour, he shouted, "Slow the fuck down before you get us killed!"

He really didn't think he'd survive the wreck…

"Nothing's going to happen," Hilde said breezily. "I'm in complete control."

Then again, maybe he ought to take his chances jumping out now…

"Tree, tree, TREE!" he nearly shrieked as Hilde turned her attention away from the road towards the little dials that controlled the radio, the truck slowly starting to go off the road.

Overcorrecting the truck, which took about a few minutes as Hilde lost control and was swerving from side to side, Hilde was back on the road and Solo was really doubting that this was a good idea. Why'd he have to believe her when she said she was a pro at this?

"Stop the fucking car!" he yelled.

"Why?" Hilde asked him, looking straight at him and not the road as she was suppose to.

"What are you doing?!" Solo cried. "Don't look at me! Look that way!"

"Why're you being such a mood killer?" Hilde groused.

"I want to go kick some guys' asses while I'm livin'," Solo snapped. "I don't want ta show up dead. What good will it be then?"

"Details, details," Hilde said, dismissing him. "Stop being a pussy already. I'm not going to get in a wreck. Just relax and let the pro handle—"

Flashing lights and a siren cut her off unexpectedly. Jerking her head up, she glanced at her rearview mirror to see that she was being tailed by a cop car. Since there was no one else on the road, he could be only after her…

Seeing her eyes narrow, Solo briefly saw his life flash before his eyes for some reason. The fact that it literally was brief was a bit worrying…

When she suddenly said, "Buckle up," Solo knew what she was about to do.

"SSSHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTT!"

---

Markus Troy's compound stretched over several acres of land, the whole area surrounded by one long, square building that cornered off a wide empty piece of land that held several buildings that had multiple stories. There was only one entrance to the place and much to the posted guard's annoyance, his station was on the wrong side.

In short, whenever a vehicle stopped in front of him, he would be standing by the passenger side instead of the driver's, a fact that made the guard think Troy himself came from England. Only those morons would have his post on the wrong side…

The only reasons why these thoughts were on his mind was because a truck had driven up and he was facing the passenger side of it. That aside, his suspicions were raised as he eyed the automobile. The tin can was a dented hunk of junk and no one working for Troy owned something like this.

So, unkindly, he pounded on the passenger side, cracking the window as he demanded, "Open up! What's your business here?"

The newly cracked window rolled down slowly, revealing a blond teen and a short girl in the driver's seat, the girl throwing him an apologetic smile. He had never seen these two before and he clicked the safety off his submachine gun.

"We're here to see Mr. Troy," the girl said sheepishly. "Do you think you could let us in?"

"And why do you need to see Troy?" the guard mocked, bringing his weapon into view. "Troy doesn't bother with little shits like you driving pieces of shit like this. Why don't you turn your asses around and get out of here?"

"Tried it your way," the blond teen suddenly spoke up, speaking to the girl. "Now we do things my way."

Before the guard could do anything, the teen's hand shot out and grabbed him by his face, the man's vision covered by a rough and calloused palm. He didn't get the chance to try to shoot his attacker as he was dragged right halfway through the open window and his neck promptly snapped.

Solo didn't even make a sound as he shoved the dead man's body out, his head literally on backwards. He ignored the sick look Hilde was giving him as he got out of the truck, purposely stepping on the guard's gun and crushing it in half under his heel.

Closing the door behind him, he peeked his head back in through the window and said, "You stay right in here. Don't even think 'bout gettin' out of the truck, 'kay?"

"Why?" Hilde managed to ask, her voice cracking. Never before had she seen a person killed, at least in this brutal manner before.

Not getting what she was trying to ask, he replied, "You're more dangerous behind the wheel. It'll make these assholes think twice."

"Hey, what's that suppose to mean?!" the girl demanded, shoving the thought of the dead guard aside momentarily.

"What do you think?" Solo retorted as he stepped before the closed gate in front of them. Without a moment's hesitation, he pried his fingers into the metal gate and without breaking a sweat, he pulled them open.

Ignoring the shocked stare Hilde was throwing at him, he leisurely walked through the now broken gate, cracking his knuckles in the anticipation of near-future violence. Much to his sadistic pleasure, he didn't have to wait long.

"Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?" a man demanded of him, coming from his right. The guy wasn't armed and he didn't look dangerous in any form so Solo wasn't worried in the slightest.

"I'm looking for Markus Troy, ya know where he is?" he asked pleasantly, not looking at the guy.

"Why don't you get out of here before something bad happens to you?" the guy suggested.

Without a thought, Solo grabbed the man by the front of his shirt and lifted him up so that he was eye to with him. "Gonna ask ya one more time, where's Markus Troy?" he asked, now revealing any of his malevolent intentions.

"Blow me," the guy growled, not in the least intimidated.

"You're loss," the blond shrugged before he threw the man through the air. The man screamed at his suddenly flight, something that was stopped prematurely as his body slammed through a window on one of the top floors of the one the many storied buildings.

_That oughtta get their attention_, Solo thought to himself as he balled his fists but let his arms dangle at his sides.

Indeed it got their attention, but being used to the professionalism of XAI, Solo had to admit that these guys reaction time was pathetic. He had been standing there for a few good minutes, wasted time that could have been better spent beating the shit out of these assholes.

It pissed him off that they kept him waiting so when he caught sight of the first armed asshole, he launched himself at the soon-to-be statistic and sent the man flying away in the air with a single punch to his sternum, the bones caving in beneath the blond's fist.

He didn't know if he had some sort of audience to that move but suddenly he had gunfire aimed at him. However, the bullets were missing by a mile and he could only stare incredulously as bullets thumped the ground all around him. Looking up at the growing crowd of armed men, he barely took a step towards them when the first bullet struck him. Like all the other times before, he was unaffected by it thus he continued strolling over to them, each step he took making the men more crazed and panicky.

And then the blond was close enough to them that the bullets began to ricochet off him and back into the gun-crazies who began screaming and crying out in pain as their own shots mowed them down.

Then he pounced on them, a bloodthirsty grin splitting his face. His feet landed on two heads, crushing them like melons as blood and brains splattered out of them. He leapt into a man's chest and flattened him onto the group, bones giving way underneath him as he pushed himself back up and spun around to land a fist into another man's cheek, the man's neck snapping to a ninety degree angle instantly.

Whirling counterclockwise on one foot, he swung his other leg into one man's knee, his leg continuing in its course that ended up severing both of the man's legs and impacting into another's man knee, shattering the joint. Grabbing the newly injured man by his unbroken leg, the blond wielded like a club as he smashed him into one of his buddies and then swung him back into another, sending this latest victim flying away like a baseball.

Dropping his human bat, he whirled around and punched his fist straight though a person's gut and threw a chop that sliced off another's head. In no time at all, he was surrounded by a field of dead bodies, each one more mangled than the one before but leaving the blond more and more dissatisfied.

He had been hoping for some sort of challenge but this was getting to be ridiculous. These guys were just so breakable that it wasn't funny! He was going to give that Troy asshole a piece of his mind about this.

That is, if he could find him first…

* * *

...that will be continued in the next chapter. Just set up this time around but hey, you can't rush these things. Besides, I about to start writting another action chapter so the next update shouldn't be too far away but don't quote me on that.


	15. Thrill Me

Author's Note: One of my longer fights, you have no idea how long it took to write the entire thing, and I'm not just talking about this chapter. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death

Thrill Me

Up the stairs Solo climbed, his now amber colored eyes scanning every nook and cranny for any sign of his target. It probably would have been a good idea to at least have seen a picture of Markus Troy because right now he was wondering around blindly. At this point, every person he ran into who he didn't kill was asked one simple question.

"Where's Markus Troy?"

Usually the answers he was given were unsatisfactory and he had no choice but to pound their asses into the floor and continue on in his search. It wasn't like he was in a hurry but the last thing he wanted was for Troy to get out and leave him in this place looking for him in vain. Now that would suck major balls.

And he was straight thank you very much!

Okay, he was on the third and top floor of this building and he was nowhere closer to finding Troy that he was when he first starting, which was really pissing him off. A random stomp of his foot caused the floor under it to cave in and create an impressive hole but Solo was heedless of this as he grinded his teeth in anger.

"This asshole better be worth it," he growled as he turned a glare to a set of windows that gave him a good view of a nearby two story building. Cracking his neck, he bent his legs and shot himself through the glass barrier and onto the roof of the building. Bending an arm back, he threw a punch into the roof and allowed himself to fall down onto the second story floor and into a group of unsuspecting armed men who were shocked to find the ceiling falling onto them.

Not any worse for wear, Solo stepped carelessly onto anybody who was unlucky enough to be in his warpath. Blood splattered from beneath his shoed feet and he left bloody footprints in his wake as he marched into the next room. Stopping in the doorway, his eyes scanned the room he found himself in, the amber-hued optics lighting up upon picking up some movement.

Strolling across the room, he shoved aside a cabinet and picked up yet another unarmed man by the scruff of his button down shirt with ease. Eyeing the trembling man critically, he inquired, "Where's Markus Troy? Tell me and I promise ya that I won't beat da shit outta ya. 'Kay?"

The man swallowed noisily in fear but nonetheless pointed a trembling arm towards a nearby wall. Smirking cruelly, Solo dropped the hapless man, telling him to "get the fuck outta here" as he calmly strolled in the direction the man had pointed him in.

With a well placed punch, he made a hole in the wall, throwing another punch to widen it further so that he wouldn't have to bend head over heels to go through it. As he stepped through his crude doorway, he found himself in a large office of sorts in which stood an average sized, black haired man who was staring at him in shock.

To say that the blond was a little disappointed was a bit of an understatement but then again this could just be another poor schmuck that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was only one way to figure this one out and luckily for him, the direct approach would work just fine here.

"Are you Markus Troy?"

Simple yet so eloquent. That was how the blond liked things.

In answer, the surprised man nodded in the affirmative, his eyes never leaving Solo's large form.

Talk about a total letdown, Solo's fears were fully confirmed. The guy he was looking forward to beating the shit out of was some puny guy who looked like he would fall to pieces just being hit by a stiff breeze. Hell, the Chinese guy could take the asshole on and beat him to a pulp and he didn't have any special abilities like he did!

Wait, wasn't he Japanese? Eh, same difference.

Mustering all the irritation he had on him, he grabbed Markus Troy by the front of his suit and lifted him up so that his feet were dangling above the floor in an almost comical manner. However, there was nothing comical in Solo's amber hued eyes as he eyed the pathetic excuse for a man.

"How small is your dick that ya have ta threaten Lil' Orphan Annie ta make yourself feel good?" he finally asked. "Anybody can do that and mess with Howard while they were at it. So what makes you any different than the asshole who tortured me, huh?"

"What are you talking about?" Troy demanded with some difficulty.

"You threaten an old man and a bunch of orphans with no place ta go all so that you can hide your precious drugs from the cops," Solo sneered. "You think your tough? You're nothin' but a big, fat pussy."

"Easy for you to say," Troy snarled. "Why don't you put your money where your mouth is and face me like a—GUARDS!"

---

"Stupid bastard, who does he think he is?" Hilde grumbled to herself, hitting the steering wheel of Howard's truck in an attempt to release some of the anger that her insane friend had a habit of easily instilling in her.

It was not very successful as she was still pissed off at him.

As if he had some right! She could drive just fine! He had told her he didn't know how and had asked if she could and she did. So what if half her experience involved grand theft auto and wildly trying to get away as quickly as possible. And so what that half the time involved her actually wrecking said cars but at least she had experience, damn it!

Still, he said nothing about driving into this place now did he…?

A low humming in the air caught her attention. Wait a minute, what was that? Shifting in the driver's seat, she looked out through the truck cab's rear window, squinting her eyes to try and see further. She could barely make it out but she could see a few black dots on the horizon. Now what could those be?

Several minutes passed and she continued to stare ahead, trying to make out just what those black dots were. As they slowly grew bigger and took shape, her eyes widened.

What were those things doing here?

---

Solo found himself a bit shocked at that last word, especially since Troy and literally screamed it. Not a second later, the doors to Troy's office were broken down to reveal several men holding automatic weapons and ready to use them at a second's notice.

"Wuss," Solo muttered as he tossed Troy away easily before throwing himself at the armed men who began shooting at him.

Due to his close proximity to them, the bullets ricocheted off him and back to the men who cried out in pain as Solo silenced them with a fist to their faces. No sooner had he broken the first jaw was he spinning his body around to ram a lone foot into someone's gut and then swinging an elbow backwards to slam into another's nose. Throwing out the arm that the elbow belonged to, his punched another man who broke through a wall in the outside hallway like it was paper.

Meanwhile, another armed man who had yet to be taken out had picked up his gun and had aimed right before shooting a single bullet into the blond's head. Solo's head jerked to a side but his body did not collapse to the floor as the man was expecting. Slowly, Solo turned his to his attacker, not a single trace of a smile on his face.

Correcting this, the corners of the blond's mouth twitched upwards before the lips parted to show off pearly white teeth. With the feral smile imprinted on his face, Solo lashed out with his other unused fist, the appendage impaling the guy and showering the nearest surface with blood and bits of bone.

Not in the least bit phased, Solo shrugged the dead man off his arm and stomped his way back into office where Troy cowered away from him. The blond felt a surge of power and might through his body and it was an addicting sensation to say the least, the blond had to admit. Long strides carried him to the drugdealer who tried to push himself away from the titan's warpath.

Needless to say, it didn't work.

"You really are just some bigass coward, ain't ya?" Solo commented as he picked Troy up and set him on his feet. "Whenever some bigger fish comes along, ya piss yourself dry and try ta hide. Hidin' ain't gonna save ya this time."

"You think you're tough, don't you?" Troy spat. "I don't know what shit you took but just you wait. I'll get you for this, you motherfucker. You _freak_."

"I'm not a freak," Solo growled back. "There's only one freak here and I'm lookin' at 'um. Only scum like you threatens kids over pocket change, takes away parents from 'um and leaves them to rot on the streets."

"Is that what happened to you?" Troy sneered, taking hold of whatever bravado he could. He would be damned if he was going to take this sitting down! "Your parents were little druggies? And it's my fault that you were abandoned? Ha! I just supply a demand, you little shit. It was your parents who chose to take drugs and leave you."

"And I'm over that," Solo cut off. "What I'm not over is how people like you get to do this illegal shit and get away with it scot free. What I'm not over is how people like you think they own the world and get ta do whatever they want while the rest of us have ta suffer."

"So you think you're Batman, Superman?" Troy snarked. "That you're going to come in and save everyone from the big bad criminals?"

"Hell no!" Solo retorted. "They gotta ask first."

Letting go of Troy, Solo drew his fist back and delivered an uppercut right into the man's chin. With the force from the blow moving him, Troy found his head embedded right into the ceiling, his body dangling limply in the air.

"I once heard God only helps those who help themselves," Solo said as he lowered his arm. "If they want my help, they gotta get the guts to ask for it. Heh, there's that God shit again. That priest's gotta be rubbing off on me or somethin'."

A sudden screeching noise caught his attention and he hurried over to the nearest window, fearing the worst already. He was not surprised at all to see the truck rammed right into the side of the building but that didn't mean that he didn't feel like groaning to himself.

What was so hard about staying in one spot? Honestly! It seemed like every girl had that inability!

Then his attention was caught again by the roaring sound of helicopter propellers. This time, a sense of dread bubbled up in his stomach as he looked up to see at least three helicopters within his sight.

Well, shit.

Machine gun fire pelted him, the bullets destroying practically everything behind the blond, even hitting the hanging body of Markus Troy. Solo, however, remained completely unaffected by the assault, large bullet shellings falling off of him as soon as the assault cut off.

It didn't take the blond long to figure out just why the shooting stopped; the hissing sound of missiles being launched at him was a dead giveaway in that department. He leapt from the window, narrowly avoiding the fiery explosion that occurred. Landing next to Howard's crashed truck, he tore off the vehicle's door to find a scared shitless Hilde who was staring back him with wide open eyes.

The drilling of bullets being fired again forced Solo to drop what he was about to say, scoop the frightened girl into his arms, and run for it all the while using his body to protect her from the shelling. Bullets tore into the building as well as the pavement and the truck, only stopping when Solo passed under the helicopters themselves and could not longer aim at him. Unfortunately, just because the helicopters couldn't shoot at the blond didn't mean that the armed men inside them couldn't. Where the more damaging rounds of the flying machines stopped, the sleeker shots from the assault rifles replaced them as they littered the ground around the fleeing blond.

"Are these assholes ever gonna let up?" he muttered to himself as he skidded to a halt. Oblivious to Hilde's screams that were demanding to know what he was doing, the blond slammed his hand into the paved ground and pulled up. Instead of pulling the large piece of concrete up and throwing it, he stopped halfway and threw Hild under it.

"Stay here," he ordered. Pausing, he added, "And try not ta get yourself killed."

He leapt over the makeshift shelter, running at the three helicopters that had managed to turn around to face him. Crouching, Solo launched himself at the closet machine only to miss as it evaded him, pelting him with more gunfire as he passed by.

Twisting around, Solo landed against a building feet first and pushed off it, tearing through the air towards another helicopter. Unlike the first one, Solo struck the rear propeller and sent it on a wild descent that resulted in crashing against the ground and exploding.

---

"Agile little bastard, isn't he?" Katsaris mused as he watched the malfunctioning weapon take down the first of the three helicopters. "Let's get some men on the ground and see how he holds up."

---

Solo had barely managed to get onto his feet again when he noticed other helicopters entering the scene. These newbies were actually lower to the ground but what got the blond's interest was the fact that they were unloaded the men inside, all of whom were heading in his direction.

It was as if they had no real experience in dealing with him and were charging him head on…

"Amateurs," he muttered as he stood his ground, cracking his knuckles in anticipation.

The incoming crowd circled around him, cutting off any potential escape route the blond might take, each man aiming their weapons solely on him. Solo lazily watch them get into their positions, not in the least bit intimidated or worried. He simply rolled his shoulders to get the circulation flowing through them more readily.

"Hands behind your head!" one of the men shouted at him with an authoritative voice. "Down on your knees."

Holding up his hands in the air, Solo said, "Yeah, yeah," as he bent his knees. Instead of going all the way to the ground, he pushed forward with his knees and shot at the shouting man, reaching him before he could comprehend what was going on. He rammed his shoulder into the man's gut and carried him forth without stopping. Exclamations of surprise erupted, soon followed by a barrage of bullets being shot at him as he continued moving forward. Grabbing the man with his shoulder imbedded into his gut by a strap, he twisted and flung the man at another of his comrades before throwing himself in another direction.

He threw a punch that shattered the recipient's sternum and caved in his ribcage while spinning his body around to deliver a roundhouse kick that sent another nearby man flying away. Pushing up with his grounded leg, Solo back flipped out of the way of a thrown grenade, his ass impacting a man right in his face and causing the man to fall to the ground where his skull was then crushed under Solo's body.

Shrapnel from the exploding grenade pierced Solo's bulletproof vest but did nothing to slow him down as he flung himself at another nearby armed man, throwing another roundhouse kick that decapitated the guy and sent his head spinning in the air. Not wanting to just let the headless body go to waste, Solo grabbed and chunked it at another armed man who was unable to get out of the way in time and was struck with the corpse.

By now, a few of the men were starting to lose their nerve but Solo wasn't quite done with them yet. He jumped high into the air and over the group so that he landed behind them, cutting off their intended route of escape. Not even pausing, Solo rushed at them, both of his arms held perpendicular with his body so that he clotheslined the nearest men.

In fact, the first two weren't the only ones to fall to this attack; six, maybe eight others received a personal meeting with his muscular arms and each and every one of them ended up flat on their backs moaning pain.

Skidding to a halt, Solo threw a smirk back at the path of fallen men. The sudden hiss of missiles being fired at him caught his attention and he snapped his head back so that he glared the flying explosives down. Bending his knees, Solo braced himself in preparation and once one of the missiles were in reach, he snatched one out of the air. Keeping a steady hold on the explosive, he twisted his waist and threw the missile at the fleeing armed men who had managed to get some distance away from him.

He didn't get the chance to admire his handiwork, though, since the blond momentarily forgot about the other missiles that were fired at him, only recalling them when he was struck with one and consumed in the resulting flames. Solo found himself blinded by the smoke that surrounded him and his ears were bombarded with a ringing hum that overpowered every other sound.

The blond found himself coughing as smoke invaded his lungs and he had to get away from it before he lost consciousness. Sure, it might take a few minutes, but when you were fighting for your freedom, every precious minute counted.

Emerging from the cloud of carbon, coughs wracking his tough body, he glared at the helicopters with squinted amber eyes. Now that had been a cheap shot. Like hell he was going to take that sitting down.

Slamming a fist into the pavement, he pulled a chunk of it off the ground and hurled it at the helicopters. The flying machine immediately took evasive actions but one wasn't able to get out of the way in time and was take out by the hunk of concrete, an explosion occurring as the concrete rammed into it.

"Fuckers," Solo coughed. "Think I'm goin' down that easy?"

The remaining helicopters had returned to their previous positions and all of them at once began to firing their machine guns at him, the bullets drilling into the ground as they closed in on him. Rolling his eyes, Solo bent his knees then shot straight up like a rocket into the air. The swathes of bullets followed after him and only until it was too late did the pilots realize their fatal mistake.

As Solo shot high above them, the hail of bullets followed after him until they began pelting the other helicopters with their own fire. Only one was able to stop and move before too much damage had been done to it. The other two weren't as lucky as bullets pierced their metal hides and caused enough damage to down them, the crews doomed to their deaths.

---

Katsaris couldn't help but whistle. "Xavien didn't cut any corners with this one did he?" he mused aloud. The fact that the weapon was beating the crap out of his men had been quite a rude awakening but Katsaris wasn't one to remain mad for too long.

Picking up a walkie-talkie, he spoke into it, "Are you in place yet Serbiak?"

_I'm ready and itching to cap this son of a bitch's ass,_ came Serbiak's response.

"Wait a little longer," Katsaris ordered. "I'm going to send out our reinforcement and once the fight has gone under way, I want you to take your shot. Make it a good one."

_Who do you think you're talking too?_ Serbiak responded. _Blondie down there doesn't stand a chance._

---

Solo took a good look at his surroundings as he surveyed his handiwork. Bodies groaning in pain, fires dotting the landscape, and the hunks of metal that used to be helicopters told the story of his rampage of destruction and the blond found it mediocre.

It wasn't great but not bad either. After destroying a town and wrecking an entire city, something like this didn't really impress him. For Solo, it was just all in a day's work.

Turning on his heel, he strolled over to a piece of concrete that was still standing up and walked around it to see if Hilde was still living. In short, the girl was but she looked as if she had gone through hell and back, what with her hair in disarray and pallid skin the color of a white bed sheet after it had met bleach.

Snapping his fingers in front of her face, he asked, "You okay? You ain't gone batshit on me yet, have ya?"

Coming out of the daze she was in, Hilde stared at the fingers for a moment before her eyes trailed up the rest of his arm to his face. "W-what are you?" she asked, her voice cracking. "How did you…?"

"You don't wanna know," Solo shrugged, not surprised at her reaction. "You better get outta here while ya still can. If ya think things are bad now, you haven't seen anything yet."

"Right…" her voice cracked and unsteadily she began trotting away, taking his suggestion seriously and trying to get as far away as she could. The only thing on her mind now was getting back home to Howard and crawling under her bed and not coming out for a long time.

Solo watched the girl leave, not taking his eyes off her until she was out of his sight. Only then did he turn around slowly to stare down the newcomer that had appeared a few minutes ago. The tanned boy with mischievous silver eyes looked back at him in amusement, a hand lifting up to combing through the wild and spiky black hair on his head.

"Thought you'd never notice me," he said cheerfully. "Then again, I don't blame you; that chick is hot."

"Don't even think about putting your stinkin' hands on her," Solo growled as he balled his fists.

"Don't get like that," the boy whined. "I was just complementing your good tastes."

"Like I give a crap what you think of me Wolf," Solo snapped. "I know what you're really here for and I'm not going to make it easy for ya ta take me back."

"Whoever said the bossman wanted you back?" Wolf replied. "I'm not here to take you back. I'm here to kill you."

Solo blinked in surprise. "So they're finally changing their game plan, huh?" he said, smiling bitterly. "'Bout freakin' time, too."

"Bossman thought it was too much effort to take you back," Wolf shrugged. "He doesn't want you anymore."

"He's not the only one," Solo groused. "Well, what are you waitin' for? Next Christmas?"

"If you really want to die that bad, far be it for me to make you wait," Wolf shrugged. His lips then parted to reveal not pearly white teeth, but yellowed, sharp canine ones.

Wolf's body shuddered and then expanded as it bulked up in muscle, the boy falling down to his haunches. Fur sprouted out of him and the pupils of his eyes slitted as a tail ripped out of the rear of his black uniform. Finger nails grew and hardened into sharp claws and boots tore open as feet widened into paws.

His transformation complete, Wolf unleashed a savage snarl as he leapt at the blond.


	16. Sit Doggy Sit

Author's Note: Well, Observing Time, your OC is finally confirmed. Did my best and I hope he's what you envisioned him as. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or Observing Time's David.

Warning: language, violence, death

Sit Doggy Sit

David, by nature, was a patient person. So waiting around at the command of a large hulk of a man was not a big deal to him but when you factored in the impertinence of youth, teenagers in particular, it became an incredibly _boring_ and irrefutably annoying task.

Even though he wanted some action, he knew that waiting was the key to their strategy and it didn't hurt to know just like the big hulk next to him that the army guys didn't stand a chance at capturing Solo. They might as well kill their selves all now and save the trouble.

Combing his fingers through brown hair that was littered with silver streaks, he snorted irritably. This didn't even have the result of attracting the attention of the bossman's right hand man. The man himself continued to wield those fancy binoculars of his instead of using his GPS tracking device as he continued to spy on the army guys.

Sighing irritably again, he pulled out his treasured sword and critically examined the blade, preparing for the inevitable fight that was coming up. Double-edged, long, and sharpened down to the point that he could cut down a redwood tree with a single slice, he marveled at its simplistic beauty as the sun reflected off its polished surface.

"Steady David," the man neck to him unexpectedly spoke, startling him. "The time for our strike is at hand. On my word—"

"I send the General on a one way ticket to hell," David interrupted. "Don't keep me waiting too long; I don't think I can hold myself for much longer."

---

Katsaris slowly lowered his binoculars, an ill expression on his face. Watching that kid change like that…he had seen a lot of fucked up things in his life but this one certainly took the cake.

"What have you gotten me into Septum?" he whispered unheard to himself.

---

Instinctually, Solo raised his hands to catch Wolf by his fanged mouth, an action he regretted as the rest of Wolf's body slammed into him and pushed him back. Hot, putrid breath rolled over his face and Solo jerked the other's head to a side if only to give himself some fresher air.

Tossing his head around, Wolf broke Solo's hold and then delivered a head butt that left the blond uncharacteristically dazed. Flexing clawed fingers, he slashed into Solo, his claws getting stuck into the blond's thick bulletproof vest as a result.

Recovering, Solo repaid the earlier favor by grabbing Wolf by his head and giving him a head butt of his own, pausing only once to give another one and then shoving Wolf away, his vest tearing slightly as Wolf's clawed hand tore out of it. Jumping and twisting his body in imitation of those actors in cheap martial arts movies, Solo slammed a kick into the side of Wolf's head and sent the other crashing back, his body skidding on the ground before coming to a stop.

Wolf didn't stay still as he flipped onto his haunches, snarled at the blond as a bit of spittle dripped from his mouth. Not wanting to give Wolf a chance to strike, Solo rammed his hands into the pavement and pulled up a chunk of concrete that he threw haphazardly at his animalistic opponent. Wolf twisted out of the way gracefully then launched himself at Solo again, this time swinging his clawed hands out first.

The first one scrapped against Solo's face but the blond grabbed the second one before it could reach him. Like always, no damage appeared on him, even the hint of a scratch from Wolf's claws. With a growl, Solo forced Wolf's captured arm up and leveled a jab into the other's ribs.

Wolf then took control as he twisted his body and landed a pawed foot into Solo's groin. Not even a spark of pain was felt from the blond and once again he wondered if this was a good thing or a bad thing. These thoughts distracted him long enough that Wolf freed himself from him and leapt in the air, landing behind him and wrapping his arms around the blond's torso.

Bending his back backwards, Wolf lifted the blond up and held onto Solo as he slammed his head into the broken pavement. Pushing up with his legs, Wolf pivoted in the air until he landed on his feet on the other side of Solo, his grip on the blond's body never wavering for an instant.

Pulling up, Wolf plucked Solo's head out of the ground and with a heave, tossed the blond away to land on his back. Leaping high into the air, he landed feet first onto Solo's chest, forcing the air out of his lungs. Letting himself fall backwards, Wolf angled his elbows so that they stabbed into Solo's thighs, his feet raising up simultaneously as Solo sat up in pain from the previous blow. Wolf swung his feet down as Solo was sitting up at a forty-five degree angle, striking Solo's face with the heels of his feet.

Finding himself in the awkward position of getting his ass handed to him, Solo growled and rolled both of them over so that Wolf laid flat on his stomach as the blond sat up on the werewolf's back. Before he could make a move, Wolf's tail swung and wrapped around his neck. The strong muscles in the appendage pulled the blond down so that his face smacked into the pavement once again.

Grabbing the tail, Solo pried it from his neck and twisted it harshly enough that Wolf yelped in pain as a bone in his tail broke. Reacting in an animalistic manner, he kicked back with his legs, throwing Solo away to skid against the concrete pavement once again.

As the blond scrambled to get to his feet, Wolf was already up and charging, tackling Solo and clamping his jaws tightly on his neck. Clawed hands pinned Solo's arms down and paws balanced precariously on his knees, claws digging into the soft sides around his kneecaps. Solo felt immense discomfort as Wolf's jaw clenched tighter and tighter on his throat but he remained calm, letting his arms and legs go limp as he flexed and swelled the muscles in his neck.

Deadlocked, the two remained in their positions, neither getting an advantage over the other. Becoming more and more focused on Solo's throat, Wolf began to lax his told on Solo's arms and that became his undoing as the blond took the opportunity for what it was worth. Breaking one arm loose, he slammed a fist right into the top of the werewolf's head, stunning him long enough for Solo to free his other arm.

Punching Wolf's chin with his other fist, he could feel the jawbone fracture as it was crushed between the combined force of his fist and his neck of swollen muscle. Wolf pulled away, howling as best as he was able to in pain. Grabbing the front of the remains of Wolf's uniform, Solo pulled himself up and head butted him harshly.

Pulling back a fist, he landed a direct hit into Wolf's sternum and sent the other flying off of him to land crumpled a distance away. Rubbing the stiffness out of his neck, the blond glared over at Wolf, not even a mark marring his skin.

Taking a bit of a breather, Solo took his time getting back to his feet but no sooner had he down that when something small struck the side of his head hard enough that he stumbled to a side and down to his knees.

What the hell—?

He felt two more soft impacts hit him; one in the neck and one in his cheek. Yet he manage to stay upright and slowly touch the small object that had attempted to embed itself in his face. Pulling it out, he stared in wonder at the sniper's bullet pinched between his two fingers, pondering how it could have gotten there in the first place.

Instantly, it all clicked in his brain and he spun his head to the side just in time to get a bullet in the middle of his forehead. His head jerked back but the blond was not incapacitated. Slowly bringing his head forward, he calmly removed all the bullets sticking out of him, getting back to his feet all the while not taking his eyes off a specific nearby building.

With a simple leap that carried him high up into the air, he landed with a hard thump onto the building's roof, the sight of a blond haired sniper greeting him with surprised brown eyes.

Smirking, Solo said, "Bad move buddy."

The sniper kicked out with a foot, striking Solo in his stomach but the blond was unfazed by it. He had taken worse before, much worse.

However, he had to give credit where credit was due; the sniper was fast to move as he was on his feet and slamming the butt of his rifle into his face. Though his head snapped back from the blow, he remained unaffected by it as he slowly took a step closer to the sniper and then another and another…

Turning his weapon around, the sniper fired a shot straight into the blond. Solo didn't even feel it but decided not to let the man get off with another shot. He grabbed the barrel of the rifle and twisted it to a side, rendering it useless and inspiring a great deal of fear in the sniper.

"What the hell are you?" the sniper gasped.

Ignoring anything else the sniper said, Solo closed the distance between the two of them and grabbed hold of the sniper.

Then, as he expressed a predatory smirk, he growled, "I'm your worst nightmare."

_Serbiak! Come in Serbiak! What is going on down there?! Serbiak respond!_

Looking down, Solo caught sight of the small walkie-talkie on the now named Serbiak's waist. Glancing back up at the sniper, he stated, "There's more?"

With a grunt, Serbiak struck with his pointer and middle fingers by striking them into Solo's suprasternal notch. Choking at the unforeseen attack and unexpected weakness, Solo lost his hold on the sniper as he tore himself out of the blond's grip.

Feeling smug, Serbiak high kicked the blond in the middle of his face and immediately regretted it as it felt like he had kicked a solid steel door. A strong hand grabbed him by his throat had hefted him up, causing him to grab hold of the arm it was attached to.

"Bad move," Solo growled, coughing slightly as he pulled his fist back, readying it for a devastating blow.

At that moment, the feral Wolf leapt onto the roof and lunged at the two, snarling like a rabid beast and surprising the two. Acting instinctively, Solo spun around and used Serbiak as a human shield, the sniper shrieking as his neck found its way into Wolf's mouth.

Hot blood splattered onto Solo's arms as Serbiak's throat was torn out but it provided Solo with just the distraction he needed to thread his hands into Wolf's mouth and rip the top of the boy's head off. Blood erupted like a fountain from the headless neck and the animal's body collapsed next to the dying body of Serbiak.

Wiping the sweat off his forehead, smearing blood there unintentionally, his attention was caught once again by the sound of Serbiak's walkie-talkie. Taking the small device, he ripped it off Serbiak and held it up to his face, looking at it puzzlement as the person on the other end continued to speak.

_Come in Serbiak! I repeat, come in Serbiak!_

Pressing his thumb down on the talk button, Solo spoke, "Who da hell is this?"

Silence was his answer. It was something that pissed the blond off more than he would ever admit. Just as the last of his patience had left him, the walkie-talkie came to life.

_Who is this?_

It was less of a question and more of a statement but Solo was still ticked off from being forced to wait. "I asked first, asshole."

_It's none of your business,_ the voice answered after a pause. _Give me to Serbiak and leave. Make me wait and you'll regret it._

"Hate ta tell ya this but Serbiak is dog chow," Solo drawled back.

_What?_

"You don't hear too well, do ya?" Solo snarked. "Your buddy here is dead. Now, just how are ya gonna make me regret anything? I'm just dyin' ta know."

Nothing but static. Fucking figures. Well, he had all the time in the world. He doubted that whoever was on the other end of the walkie was going to cause him any major damage. Nothing like a taunt to get somebody riled up.

The blare of helicopter propellers tore through the silence, catching Solo by surprise. There were five of them and each and every one of them had fired missile after missile straight at him.

"Well, shit," Solo said right before everything around exploded into flames.

---

Katsaris crowed in triumph as the building the target stood atop erupted into a fury of fire and shattered stones, the building's infrastructure collapsing and falling apart.

It leaned to a side as it crumbled, kicking up dirt and dust all around it as the ruins were covered up in dark smoke. Flames were extinguished under the rubble and the cacophony came to a sudden standstill, the only sound being small pieces of concrete bouncing against the ground.

"Take us down!" Katsaris yelled above the sound of the propellers. "We need to find that son of a bitch's body and get his head! We won't get paid without it!"

---

Lowering his binoculars, Malkov commented, "It's about that time now."

"Uh huh," David said.

Putting the far-seeing device away, he hefted up his preferred assault rifle and led the way towards Markus Troy's ruined compound.

---

Even from the distance she had put between her and the fight, Hilde could still hear the explosions, their ominous booming sounds reaching her easily. Add to the fact that she was in the middle of nowhere, literally, with no means of transportation, she felt as if she should just sit down and wait to die.

Whoever was attacking would more than likely come after her, she was sure, and no matter how fast or how far she ran, they would catch up to her and kill her.

She was just a kid, a thief in the shallowest sense of the word. She was in no way prepared or even ready to get involved with whatever was going on back there and she didn't even want to know who the guys in the helicopters were.

To say she was scared shitless was a moot point.

Finally collapsing onto the unforgiving ground, the girl panted harshly and swallowed as much air as she could all the while sweating her ass off from the heat radiating on her from the sun. Why'd it half to be a cloudless and sunny day today anyway? Here she was in the middle of it without even a fan or air conditioning! She was going to die here and no one would ever know.

It took her a few minutes but after staring at a black shape in the distance approaching her, she realized that she wasn't alone here. In fact, this black shape was that of a person and whoever it was was heading in the direction she came from. She could not in good conscious let whoever this was go that way without being told the dangers back there.

She tired yelling at the person but she found that her throat was too dry to allow her to speak anything above a whisper. Unsteadily, she got to her feet and began to stumbled over to the approaching person, waving an arm in the air to get their attention.

She must have been weaker than she thought because she found herself falling to her knees only after a few feet, exhaustion taking its toll on her. She could just cry if it wouldn't have been a waste of precious water.

She heard the crunching footsteps draw closer and closer to her, coming to a stop right in front of her, giving her a good view of a black clad leg. Tilting her head up, she found that she had to squint her eyes closed as the sun was shining directly behind the person so she couldn't get a good look at who it was.

She did get her first clue when the person spoke in a baritone, a hint of light humor in the voice. "You look like you've been dragged through hell and back. You need any help?"

It was a he, definitely a he, and she answered his question with a nod, finding it hard to use her voice. Two strong arms helped her up to her feet and held her against a lithe body that was anything but soft.

"I think you need to be somewhere safe," the person spoke. "It's dangerous for a little girl like yourself here. In fact, I know just the place to take you."

If she hadn't been so tired, she would have given the guy a death glare but since she had no energy to spare, she let her head flop against his shoulder as he adjusted his grip on her.

Suddenly, everything distorted around them and Hilde felt that she was going to be sick to her stomach. Then, as soon as the sensation appeared, it was gone and the person began setting her down onto cool concrete that was covered in the shade. Compared to what she had just been in, it felt heavenly despite the heat that intruded even here.

"There ya go," the voice said. "Just wait a bit and help will be on the way, 'kay?"

In reply, she groaned.

A chuckle was her response, followed by the sound of breaking glass in the distance, something she found odd. Prying open her eyes, it took her a bit to realize just where she was.

Howard's garage? How'd she get here? Wait, where was that guy?

Indeed, she was all alone and nearby she could hear Howard's voice raising, demanding to know who broke the window.

She had no clue as to how to explain this one. Not at all.


	17. Katsaris Makes a Stand

Author's Note: Quick update only because I've been in a writing frenzy and action scenes are so much easier to write than suspense, drama, or humorous ones. Unless you're ShadowMajin, then that last one need not apply. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death

Katsaris Makes a Stand

The squad of armed men approached the rubble cautiously, each one's trigger finger itchy and their nerves frayed. It would take just one little thing to set them off, just one thing, and them would fill whatever surprised them with an overgenerous amount of lead.

The job at the moment, though, was anything but life-threatening. All they were suppose to do was shift through the debris of the destroyed building and find any remains of the target. It was not a job they were comfortable with, especially since all of them had witnessed the raw power that the target possessed and the destruction he had rained down on them.

However, the only way they were going to get paid was to find the body so what choice did they have?

Shifting through the debris, pieces of concrete slid down from the large pile of rubble but other than that, it was uneventful, to say the least.

Then a patch of rubble erupted into a spray of rocks and emerging from the dusty smoke that resulted, the target emerged without much of a scratch on him other than his clothes fraying.

Putting a hand against his neck, Solo tilted his head to the side, receiving a pop from his vertebrae and the pleasant sensation of tenseness leaving him. Noticing the armed men staring at him in shock, he put his hands on his hips and said, "Missed me?"

That was the catalyst that sent the men shooting at him with a barrage of bullets that Solo endured. Rolling his eyes with a groan, completely ignoring the fact that he wasn't feeling a thing from the assault, he stuck his hand back into the pile and pulled out an enormous chunk of concrete.

Without much of a show, he plopped it down on the group of men before they had the chance to escape. With a hand on his shoulder, he rolled the joint and took a look at his surroundings, spotting the helicopters a distance away where a small crowd of men were scrambling around as if they were chickens with their heads cut off.

"They never learn," he said to himself and bent his knees. A few seconds later, he landed in front of one of the helicopters just as its propellers began to spin. Moving quickly, he grabbed the flying vehicle by its tail and picked it up. With a twist of his waist, he threw the machine away, the helicopter spinning and tumbling through the air until it slammed into the ground and exploded.

Then something rammed into him hard enough to make him stumble away. Turning around, he found himself facing a very large man with long, dark and graying hair that also showed a bit of his bald palate and hardened blue eyes that were glaring him down with irrepressible rage and fury. To tell the truth, this man was one of the few people the blond had met who was bigger than he was.

"Who're you?" the blond asked, frowning.

"Why should you care?" the man snapped at him as he raised his clenched fists up.

"You're that guy on the radio," Solo stated. "The one tryin' ta kill me."

"Surprised you figured that out," the man growled and rushed the blond. Having been used to the usual bluster that his enemies usually did, Solo was caught off guard and tackled harshly by the man.

General Katsaris had never felt as much rage as he did for this youth, not even when he was in the company of that annoying Xavien. This weapon, this _creature_, had taken out most of his best men and no matter what he threw at him, he would always get back on to his feet and fight some more.

He was going to end this once and for all, he swore even as he rained punch after punch into the blond's face. He was going to kill this fucker and get his fucking money and there was nothing that was—

The fact that the blond caught his fist was startling, the fact that with one punch the General was sent flying off the blond was a whole different thing altogether. It felt like a sledgehammer had been driven into his chest and it was needless to say that it hurt like a bitch.

However, if there was one thing that wasn't obvious about the General, it was that he was versatile. He was on his feet long before Solo had even pushed himself into a sitting position and was already moving to unpin a grenade, counting to two before he threw it at the blond.

Solo had just sat up as the armed projectile appeared in front of his face and that was all the time he had as it detonated right then and there. It had been a good thing that he had shut his eyes less than a second before the explosion because he felt the grenade's shrapnel prick against his eyelids in a continuous hammering. His ears were ringing, his eyes were closed, thus he was unable to detect anything around him until Katsaris stomped his booted foot into his face.

The General stomped down again and again, lost in his rage as the only thing on his mind was to kill the blond. When not even a bruise or a hint of blood appeared on the blond's head, Katsaris nearly lost it as began stomping his feet all over Solo's body, sometimes going as far as to jump up and down on him.

Suddenly crouching to his knees, Katsaris, wrapped his arms around Solo's neck in a sleeper hold but unlike the traditional hold where the neck was held in the crook of the elbow, Katsaris had his lower arm pressed against Solo's throat.

He was planning on choking the life out of the blond.

"Die, you little shit, die!" Katsaris growled as he increased the pressure in his arm. Victory was near, he could feel it.

Another sledgehammer blow got him in his gut as Solo hit him with his elbow. To say that the blond was fazed at all was an understatement; even the choke hold was having little to no effect. Grabbing the General by the arm over his neck, he threw his upper body forward and flipped the man over him.

Karsaris once again was on his feet before Solo could even lift his ass off the ground. The blond had to give the guy some credit for moving much faster than he looked. Instead of lunging at him like before, Katsaris backed away instead, much to Solo's confusion.

That was soon remedied when the remaining helicopters showed up again and nailed him with another barrage of bullets. Solo let himself fall onto his back and began to roll away from the strike zone, the dust and dirt from the pavement covering his escape so that he was able to get back onto his feet before the helicopters could do anything about it.

He was just about to throw himself at one of the flying machines when he was struck from behind by Katsaris. The General was far from being finished and was taking advantage of the blond's preoccupation to land some blows on him.

Twisting his waist, Solo half-turned his body and caught the General's fist, moving quickly so that he grabbed hold of the man by the front of his outfit. Nostrils flaring, the blond said, "Beat it geezer, I'm busy."

Without any effort, the blond launched the General like he was a missile and straight through the windshield on the nearest copter. The helicopter wavered in the air as the pilot desperately sought to regain its equilibrium. Solo wasn't paying attention to this, however, as he had spun around to face another of the copters, readying himself to strike it.

Now, either the heat was starting to get to him or he was losing his mind, but he swore that he saw each and every helicopter suddenly stop and freeze in midair. It was weird and Solo couldn't help but stare, wondering how they were doing it…until the reason popped into his brain and his eyes widened.

He leapt out of the way just as a massive spear blasted into the very spot he had been standing up, sinking the ground to create a small, cracked-filled crater.

Adrenaline rushing through his veins, he turned sharply and glared at the sight of another large man with black hair, a boy with brown hair and silver strands in them, and a tall, dark skinned boy with black hair and blue highlights. He didn't even have to think about it, he already knew who these people were.

"#12093," the large man suddenly bellowed. "Fun time is over. Surrender yourself now or be terminated."

Not a wordy bastard, was he? Well, that was fine with Solo. Maybe now he could have a challenge on his hands.

"Suck it, ass!" he shouted back.

Without giving a verbal reply or even looking offended, the large man send a nod at the shorter of the two boys and that one smirked as he held a hand out and clenched it into a fist.

---

Lifting his bleeding head up, Katsaris looked around blearily, trying to get his bearings down. Last he recalled was going through the windshield on one of the helicopters but after that, it was just one big blank.

Right now, though, he noticed how his men were panicking, the pilot was struggling with the controls, and…there wasn't…any…noise?

What was going—?

Suddenly, the metal walls of the helicopter moved inward.

---

The remaining helicopters were crushed like empty beer cans.

That was the only comparison Solo could make at the time. That was mainly because those crushed helicopters, which hadn't blown up yet, were suddenly zooming right at him.

Once again, he leapt out of the way just as one of the crushed helicopters smashed into the ground and he spun out of the way as another passed him by mere inches. Grabbing the second helicopter, he pulled it out of whatever was holding it and threw it at the latest group of Maxwell weapons. However, the helicopter stopped in midair in front of the three, neither of them looking any way frightened at all.

And then he was hit in the back by another of the helicopters. It slammed and dragged him into the pavement, his body creating a small trench in their wake. The helicopter lifted off him and Solo picked his head up slowly. He noticed that the two weapons had closed in on him, each one walking slowly as if they had all the time in the world while the large man in the back remained where he was standing.

The taller of the two stopped in his tracks and his eyes widened, revealing his deep blue eyes changing into a dark, sickly green. At that moment, Solo felt a crushing pressure wrap around him and he felt all the air in his body being squeezed out of him. It wasn't a sensation that he was enjoying but he had no choice but to endure it.

He was jerked up and back and then whacked with one of the helicopters, the metal vehicle sticking with him as he was flung backwards. He was crushed against the ground, the helicopter laying atop him as deadweight but a push up shoved it off him.

No sooner had he struggled to his feet that he had to jump out of the way as a clawed hand slashed at him. It wasn't that he was afraid of getting cut (he couldn't do that even if he wanted to), but there was something odd with those fingernails. They were dripping some sort of liquidy green stuff and Solo had had his share of weird stuff before.

He was slashed at again and he evade once more, the guy's slicing with his other hand to catch him off guard. He got close but the blond managed to jerk back just into time, especially since one of those claws almost stabbed into his eye…

One more time, he was hit with another of the helicopters, this time from a side, and he landed on his front this time, the machine passing overhead. Turning his head, he saw the tall guy with the freaky claws making his way to him and the other shorter guy chuckling at his plight.

If there was one thing he was going to do before this was over, he was gonna nail that guy with his fist and knock out his teeth.

As if there weren't enough weirdness to go around, something strange formed right in front of him, as if the very air had just frozen. And then without warning, whatever it was that froze the air shot forward and slammed into the tall guy who only skidded back, never falling down when he finally stopped.

Solo could only blink owlishly at what had happened. It was starting to creep him out that he was beginning to have a sense of déjà vu. Soft footsteps came from behind him and a deep chuckle rang melodiously in his ears.

"It looks like you could use a hand here."

That voice…he had heard that voice before but not with the confidence filling it or the lack of homicidal tendencies usually inflected in it. Unable to resist temptation, the blond turned his head to look behind him and found a figure dressed all in black and sporting a long braid that was his trademark.

"Duo?" Solo said, his voice colored in wonder. As he took in the other, he caught a few details that made him reconsider that, one in particular behind the violet eyes that were now a deep cobalt blue. "Wait, who are you really?"

The Duo before him looked dumbfounded for a second before he shook his head as if he was being forced to put up with the stupidity of morons. "You had it right the first time Solo."

"Prove it," the blond challenged, standing up to his full height and towering over the braided one.

Rolling his eyes, he said, "You were reading some fantasy book the night we broke out."

"And?" Solo snorted.

"You decided you were dying when we were just a quarter mile away from some town," Duo deadpanned.

Solo paused and thought about that one. Huh, now why did that one sound familiar?

"Ya want maybe we can save this for later?" Duo inquired. "We still have company that's dead set on killing you."

"Fine but don't think you're off the hook," Solo warned as he turned back to the two other weapons who were conferring with the big guy they had brought along. "Which one you want? Guy with the claws or the metal guy?"

"I'll take the Magneto wannabe," Duo replied.

"Claw guy's mine then," Solo said as he cracked his knuckles. "Get their attention so that they'll stop yappin'. I'm growin' old here."

"Yes, your highness," Duo grumbled as he formed a wall of frozen time before them and blasted it at the three enemies.

However, before the wall could strike, a wall of solid ice suddenly formed in front of the three enemies and shattered on impact with the wall of frozen time. Both the long-haired boys blinked in surprised, at least that was until another figure in a skintight black uniform appeared by the side of the large man.

"Shame on you," the guy said, tsking as he shook his head in disappointment. "You almost let them hit you. Get it together or you two will wind up like all the others."

"Shut it Mordred," the metal guy muttered as he and his partner whirled around to face Solo and Duo.

"Great, we have another freak," Solo growled. "More da merrier then. Let's kick some ass."

"Couldn't agree more," Duo added as the fingers and thumb of his right hand pressed together and he formed a time knife. And with that, he launched a tendril of frozen time that tore through the pavement and forced their pursuers to scatter. Speeding up time beneath his feet, the braided one chased after the metal-wielder leaving Solo to throw himself at the claw guy.

Speaking of the claw guy, he saw Solo's charge coming from a mile away but allowed himself to be hit and carried a few feet before he stopped Solo altogether. Solo couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that sense the guy was actually putting up some steady resistance.

"What are you doing Asmodai?!" came the voice of the ice master, the fellow himself not making any move to attack. "Stop fucking around and finish this!"

Asmodai, as he was called, responded by bearing his teeth that were also dripping with the same green liquid as his claws were. Solo blocked the bite with his forearm, confident that Asmodai's teeth couldn't pierce his skin. And he was right; after a minute of trying to tear into his arm, Asmodai gave up and pulled his fist back, knocking the blond's block off and forcing him back.

Rubbing his jaw which was a little bit sore from the punch, he said, "Ya got some power on ya, don't'cha?"

"Indeed," Asmodai intoned, settling into a fighting stance.

"Alright, let's see what you can do," Solo murmured and slammed his hands into the ground. Pulling up a chunk of pavement, he threw the manmade rock at Asmodai who simple twisted and flexed his body in an inhumanly manner that Solo had to blink at it.

Suddenly streaking at him with the agility and mobility of a snake, Solo shifted his body from side to said to avoid the first two slashes thrown at him before he took to striking back. His first punch missed but he did manage to grab Asmodai's following slice and use it to his advantage as he spun the other around and brought his captured hand up behind his back.

Asmodai, however, was much quicker than the blond gave him credit for as he jumped and flipped over Solo, his hand still captive, and slammed both of his feet into the blond's back. Solo didn't budge and he pulled down on the captive hand the throw Asmodai back over his head and onto the ground.

Asmodai's recovery was swift and not a second after he had hit the ground, he was slithering between Solo's legs, bringing the blond's hand with him and forcing him into an awkward position. Standing up on his feet, Asmodai slammed his elbow into the small of Solo's back and then delivered another one when the first seemed to have no effect.

Gritting his teeth, Solo mustered up his superhuman strength and pulled his arm back from between and beneath his legs, Asmodai literally bending backwards to make it through the blond's legs.

It was an impressive display of flexibility but Solo was far from being in the mood to be impressed. Growling, he twisted his waist and flung Asmodai away, who let go of his end and let himself go flying. It was needless to say that the guy twisted about and landed on his feet safely but he was already acting with his next move.

Solo found himself back in that invisible, squeezing hold that forced the air out of his body and as he opened his mouth to take in as much air as he could, Asmodai hocked up what looked to be a loogie and spat it right into Solo's open mouth. Solo found himself choking and swallowing a bit of it but managed to spit out the rest quickly since it left an acidic residue on his tongue.

He recognized vaguely that he wasn't being held by that hold anymore but at the moment, getting oxygen into his lungs seemed more important. As he got over his hacking fit, he got back up to his feet but felt lightheaded. Maybe he had been taking one too many blows to the head or something, not that he was worried about it. He'd just shrug it off and get back down to business.

"A little off center?" Asmodai suddenly spoke up. He was strange that he said that but Solo couldn't pick up why.

"What's it to you?" he managed to demand, glaring at the other.

"Depends, did you swallow anything in the past minute?" Asmodai replied. When Solo didn't respond right away, he continued, "You most likely did. Well, I think it would be in your best interest to know that that little spit I shot at you was venom, a very deadly venom."

"Ya mean poison?" Solo asked.

"Correct," Asmodai nodded. "During my sessions, I was imbued with snake DNA and have received quite a few of their attributes, one of which is the poison you swallowed. While you are indestructible on the outside, how fragile are you on the inside? The venom is taking hold of you and beginning to attack your major organs as we speak. The only way to save yourself is if you can get the antivenom before it is too late."

The lightheadedness was getting worse and seemed to be help by Asmodai's almost hypnotic voice. Solo shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts quickly. "Ya wouldn't happen ta know where I could find that stuff, do ya?"

"I do," Asmodai replied as he held up his left hand. While his thumb and three of his fingers were colored the sickly-green hue of the snake's venom, his pinky was almost incandesce with a bright blue color, sticking out and catching the blond's attention. "This finger right here has the antidote that you need. If you want to get it, you're going to have to get through me first. Better figure out what you are going to do fast because time is not on your side."

"Yeah, yeah, I heard ya," Solo muttered as he placed a finger and thumb against his temple. Damn this poison was starting to act fast; he was going to have to somehow get a hold of that finger and from their fight thus far, he knew the other was going to be a slippery bastard.

Focusing his mind, his eyes nearly glowing amber, he stared Asmodai down. "Let's do this."


	18. Fight for Your Life

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death

Fight for Your Life

Duo struck fast and lethally at his metal wielding opponent but his slash with his time knife was parried by the other's sword. It was a bit unexpected but he could handle it, so he thought. His opponent leapt back, choosing not to counterattack, his body adapting a swordsman stance.

"You know how to use that thing?" Duo guessed warily.

"You bet," the other said. "Among other things as well."

It was the feeling of something coming from behind him that caused Duo to twist out of the way just as the butt end of a spear passed him by and stopped, just hovering over his opponent's shoulder.

Narrowing his eyes, he formed a second time knife, crouching into an attack position as he and the other circled. "Nice trick there," he called out. "You any good with that too?"

"You'd be surprised," the other said dryly. "There are many things I'm capable of doing and this is just the tip of the iceberg Kid."

"It ain't Kid anymore," Duo snapped back.

"Duo then," the other said. "Odd; you name yourself after Solo?"

"At least I named myself," Duo snorted back. "Unlike you…hell I don't even know who you are. Probably not important then."

"Call me David then," David supplied. "That way, you know just who was the one to send you to hell!"

Duo shielded himself with a barrier of frozen time just as one of the helicopters was flung at him. Since it was brought up at the last second, the barrier shattered as David's spear rammed into it and Duo had to twist out of the way to evade it. It was with his reflexes alone that he was able to block the sword slice David had slashed at him and since the guy was up close, he slashed back with his other time knife only for David to move out of its path.

Duo blasted David, the spear, and the helicopter away with a wall of time to give himself some breathing room so as to make his own charge at the other boy. David dodged to a side and Duo had to make some last minute maneuvers to avoid the spear again.

He flung of tendril to knock the spear out of David's control and away from the fight but David retaliated by throwing two crumpled helicopters at him. Had Duo not let himself drop flat to the ground, he didn't know if he would have been able to endure the smashing of the disabled machines slashing into one another and he knew that he need to take them out quickly.

Surrounding the helicopters in a bubble of time, he sped it up and watched as the machines rusted and fell into pieces, David's hold on them losing its grip. That may not have been one of the smarter things the braided one had done as he was still under the now rusted hunks of metal and gravity was quickly taking its hold on them.

And, unfortunately for Duo, he realized this too late.

"Oh crap," he groaned.

---

Solo charged at Asmodai, his very life in the balance as he grabbed the slippery boy and reached for the pinky finger that held his salvation. Asmodai, though, wasn't going to be making this easy as he slipped out of Solo grasp and slammed both of his feet into the blond's gut, pushing him back.

Growling, Solo punched at the other as the snake guy evade each blow as they rammed into the ground. On one particularly hard punch, Solo gripped his fingers under the pavement and pulled a chunk of it up which he proceeded to try and use to flatten his opponent.

Literally slithering like a snake, Asmodai dodged as the manmade rock slammed into the ground and was lifted up again and aimed at him for another swat. Asmodai dodged another swat, he rolled onto his back and shot his legs up, his feet catching the next swat from the worn out concrete. From the way he wasn't straining, he figured that his poison's grip on the blond had grown. All he needed to do now was stall and Solo would do all the work.

After all, all the movement Solo was doing only served to spread the snake venom throughout his body quicker. That had been the sole purpose of telling Solo about the antidote; he would struggle more and inadvertently kill himself faster.

Solo, however, was not privy to this strategy and hardly noticed that his attacks were lacking in their usual force. His lightheadedness struck at him with a vengeance and he had to stop in his assault to try and get his head together. Asmodai chose that time to strike by utilizing his own strength and shoving the concrete weapon back into the blond.

Stunned by the unexpected blow, as well as a dull throb of (could it be?) pain, Solo found himself falling back with his own makeshift weapon falling on top of him. With a push up, he tossed the concrete off him but he frowned when he saw that it didn't go as far as he expected.

Suddenly, Asmodai pounced on him, pushing all his weight onto the blond and delivering a barrage of punches that pounded Solo's head into the ground, forcing it to sink inch by inch until his head was covered in pieces of manmade rock. Jumping off him, Asmodai grabbed his leg and threw him up into the air, powdered concrete trailing after him as he flew.

Twisting his body about, Solo landed on his feet but a bout of weakness flooded his being and he stumbled back before falling onto his ass. Despite this, he noticed Asmodai charging at him and took the necessary actions to counter.

He simply fell back onto his back and caught Asmodai in his gut, using the snake's momentum against him to throw him over and away from him to slam into a crumbling building.

Rolling onto his stomach and pushing himself up, he panted lightly and tried to ignore how shaky his legs were as he stood up, sweat beading and rolling down his skin as he waited for Asmodai's recovery. He was starting to feel hot and he didn't think that it was because of the sun…

---

David couldn't help but smirk as Duo was buried under the rusting helicopters. It had been unexpected for the braided one to loosening his hold on the machines but David was quick to analyze the situation and turn it in his favor once again. And now, Duo's sole attempt to take out one of the obstacles he had used on him had backfired.

Of course, David knew the fight wasn't quite over as the helicopters seemed to rust and nearly rot in on their selves before being shattered into tiny rusty particles. Shielding his eyes as a precaution, he was unable to see Duo emerge from the leftovers of the helicopters and warp away, heading straight towards the metal wielder.

Duo came at him from a side, David barely having enough time to bring his sword up to block in time. Duo pushed himself back from the long blade and dropped into a crouch, slicing a time knife upwards that was blocked by the appearance of David's spear.

Before he could recover, David was already on the attack, slashing his sword downwards. Duo threw himself back and crossed his time knives in front of him to catch the responding slice David aimed at him.

Duo was taken off guard as David shoved him back and threw his spear via magnetism at him, planning to impale him with it. He barely formed a wall of solid time to block the blow but instead of keeping it up, he blasted it at the other, David being the one getting caught off guard this time. As David stumbled to getting his footing, Duo launched himself again, keeping low to the ground and readying his time knife for the kill.

A glimpse of fear crossed David's eyes and Duo reveled in it but that feeling was turned to ash as David's lips twisted into a smirk. His sword pointed outwards as he continued to regain his balance, the metal blade suddenly lengthened slicing through the air and slashing Duo in the upper arm.

Duo had to break his attack off and roll to aside, dissipating a time knife and grabbing the bleeding cut tightly. "Son of a bitch," he swore as he glared back at David who was already on the attack, slashing his lengthened sword and forcing Duo to drop to the ground. Not a second after that, he rolled again, narrowly missing the spear that rammed into the spot he had been occupying.

As David was turning his sword around, Duo shot a tendril of time that broke through the ground and forced David to dodge to a side, the tendril leaving a small trench in its wake.

Shortening his sword, David charged at Duo and the braided one warped out of the way but not without having to focus his energies this time around. Appearing a distance away from David, he extended multiple tendrils and used them to grab hold of any nearby object and whittle them down into some sharp instrument. He consciously chose not to grab anything metal as he doubted that it wouldn't somehow be turned against him.

Not wanting to give David anymore time, he launched his barrage of sharpened rocks on him.

---

Solo was really starting to suffer right now. His breathing had gotten heavier, his movements slower, and Asmodai was being completely ruthless in attacking him. After emerging from the dilapidated building, he had gone on the attack and was practically all over the blond, certain blows locking muscles and others making his limbs become numb. Or maybe that was the poison; it was really starting to get to him and any blows that should have caused him pain were so dull that they might as well not be there.

Then there was Asmodai's agility, mobility, and flexibility. The combination of all three allowed him to perform some moves that was not even possible, even for a survivor of Project Maxwell. And always, out of the corner of his eye, he would catch glimpses of that blue finger and each time he saw it he became more desperate.

So in short, he was getting his ass kicked.

And he was hating every moment of it.

A particularly harsh kick to his head sent him spinning as he fell onto his side, the lightheadedness becoming so severe that he was starting to have trouble focusing on anything. Lethargy was gripping his body but his stubbornness was screaming at him to get up. If he was to die, then he was going to take someone down with him and the person at the top of that list was none other than Asmodai.

As he pushed himself onto an elbow, he looked blearily up at the approaching snake who expressed no emotion at his current state. "Is that it?" Asmodai spoke as he stopped before the blond. "I was expecting more out of you."

"Fuck you," Solo spat. "Fuck you an' your expectations."

His face then made friends with the bottom of Asmodai's boot. He was dazed, no question about it, but what happened next was an act so outrageous that it penetrated the fuzz in his head.

Asmodai and grabbed and picked him up…by his hair…and he was holding him up by it and nothing else…

He was a dead man.

Asmodai slammed his fist into his face once then twice before swinging the blond about and slamming him back onto the ground. Solo felt the weight on his head lighten and he feared for the worst. Snapping eyes up, he saw his missing blond hairs clutched in Asmodai's hand and everything went red.

Grabbing Asmodai by his left ankle, he forced himself onto his knees and swung his other fist into the leg's knee. To his satisfaction, the bones shatter beneath his might, something that gave him the will to withstand Asmodai's next blow as it caught him in his cheek.

Letting go of the ankle, Solo caught himself on his freed hand and shoved himself back upright. Wrapping one of his arms around Asmodai's waist, he uppercutted the snake in the groin. Ignoring any reaction, he threw another punch and another before wrapping his other arm around Asmodai and bending his back backwards and suplexing the other.

Wrenching an arm away, he grabbed Asmodai's left arm and forced it behind his back, risking a vulnerability as he released his other arm to try and grab Asmodai's pinky.

The heel of a foot got him in the gut and Solo lost his chance as Asmodai escaped only to ram his ass into Solo's face.

"Nice try," Asmodai spat as he removed himself and stood over the blond, his legs pressed together in an odd manner. "But now it ends."

---

David had some fancy footwork. Duo had to admit that. Add to that that David was also attacking the sharpen pieces of rubble with a combination of sword and spear and actually breaking the rocks to smaller pieces, then Duo had to admit that he was impressed.

However, David didn't stop as soon as the assault stopped but continued by throwing his spear right at the braided one. Growling, Duo caught the spear in a bubble of time and from there sped it up. It was gradual but the spear began to rust until it began to fall into pieces until the point that not even David could find any use for it.

Duo grinned at the look of fury David threw at him but his triumph was short lived as something blunt slammed into the back of his head. Just like that, his hold on his powers were broken and all time resumed its normal pace as Duo swam in an ocean of pain.

"Enough of this," a deep voice stated. Managing to turn his head, he caught sight of the large man who had accompanied this latest group of weapons. The man was expressionless even as he held the butt end of his assault rifle up, ready to deliver another blow onto the hapless braided one's head.

"Hey!" David protested. "He's mine!"

"Mr. Xavien wants this one alive," the large man stated. "Stand down 14037 or risk Mr. Xavien's displeasure."

David growled but held back from attacking, glaring balefully.

But Duo was not going to let himself be taken back, not like this anyway. The name the large man was throwing about reinvigorated him but he held still as the large man toed him with his boot, making sure that he wasn't playing possum.

As soon as the large man bent down to grab his supposedly unconscious body, Duo grabbed the man and then warped them away. Unlike other times where Duo would make sure he was in a safe spot, he transported the two of them high up into the air, high enough so that the fall would be fatal. Well, it would be fatal to the large man at least…

For the first time, the large man displayed an emotion, the emotion of surprise to be precise, as the two of them plunged through the air. Attempting to use the man as a spring pad, Duo found he couldn't push off as the large man had grabbed him by his ankles and since Duo had no intention of saving this man, he struggled for a minute trying to free his ankles before rolling his eyes and blasting the man with a blast of frozen time.

Freed, Duo warped himself about several times, slowing himself down, before warping himself right in front of David, a time knife formed and ready for action. David's eyes bulged but he was moving to parry Duo's first strike.

Snarling, Duo formed his second knife but instead of striking at David, he went for the sword and sliced it in half, rusting it in his wake. David pushed himself away, dropping his sword handle simultaneously, but Duo was merciless as he charged forward and landed both of his knives into David's torso.

The metal wielder's eyes widened and that was all Duo allowed as he reduced him into a pile of dust. Falling to the ground, the silver streaks that had been a part of David's hair clattered against the ground, revealing their metallic nature.

Nearby, the large man slammed into the pavement with a wet smack.

---

Solo hacked up a wad of blood and spit, spitting the mixture out as Asmodai landed another sharp kick into his ribs. His vision was colored with blobs of small colors and his body was just so heavy that he couldn't be bothered to lift a finger.

He had really underestimated that poison and now…he was going to die from it. His insides were starting to burn and every breath he took was becoming a struggle. By now, his eyes had resumed their natural green color and he had focused the tired optics on Asmodai himself who wasn't even gloating like most would.

Then again, it was a wonder how he was still standing with a shattered kneecap and kicking the blond without falling down.

"It's getting to be that time," Asmodai suddenly spoke. "The venom should be getting to your nervous system soon and then it'll be over for you. Not quickly but there will be nothing to save you, not even the antivenom.

"Why…tellin' me this…?" Solo managed to utter, his gasps for air labored.

"So you have no hope," Asmodai shrugged. "There won't be any last minute routs or table turning this time. However, I can end your suffering right now, if you wish. Give me the word, and it will all be over."

"Fuck…you…" Solo spat.

"Your choice," Asmodai said. "Can't say I didn't try."

Solo couldn't even muster up a retort to that one. He couldn't even care less if the other did try to be an ass and kick him again, he couldn't feel it in comparison to the burning pain he was feeling on the inside.

Suddenly, Asmodai jerked upright, his eyes widening. A voice behind him growled, "One chance ass; tell me what you did to him and how to stop it."

"Why should I?" Asmodai gasped out in challenge of the demand.

"Solo?" the voice then spoke, directed towards the blond this time.

Forcing his eyes up, he saw what was going on and said, "Blue finger…cure…"

"Blue finger?" the voice mumbled and Asmodai was helpless as a strong hand grabbed his and forced it up. "What do you know, a blue fingernail, eh? This what you need Solo?"

Solo could barely nod his head in answer.

Asmodai was soon one finger less as his left pinky was cut off and tossed down to the ill blond. Since his arms were just too heavy for him, he moved his head towards the finger and puckered his lips to pick it up with his mouth. Managing to get the blue end of the pinky into his mouth, he sucked as hard as he was able, swallowing the antidote bit by bit, hoping against hope that he wasn't too late.

"So you saved him," Asmodai gasped. "It's not over yet though."

"For us, maybe but you you, guess again," the voice stated and soon Asmodai collapsed into a cloud of dust as his lifeforce was wrenched from him. Crouching down, the black clad Duo looked down on his friend in worry, wiping away the sweat from Solo's brow as he continued to drink more of the antitoxin. "You gonna be okay big guy?"

"Not for long."

Duo spun around and raised a wall of frozen time just as an icy blast crashed into it. The air was left in a mist that was slowly clearing up and when Duo could see past it, he could see the last of the enemy group standing there with an arm stretched out in their direction, palm flat and fingers spread out. It took Duo a minute but he recalled the name that this newbie had been called.

"Mordred," he said, eyes narrowing.

"You know me," Mordred replied, the corners of his lips angled downwards in a semi-frown.

"No, one of your buddies said your name earlier," Duo retorted.

Mordred snorted. "So you aren't as bright as I thought you were, 11085."

"The name's Duo, ass," he snapped.

"You're in no condition to be telling me what to say," Mordred said dryly. "You're weak and I'm still in prime condition. Now, I'm willing to spare you if…"

"If what?" Duo demanded.

"You step aside and leave your friend where he lies," Mordred said.

"Over my dead body," Duo growled.

Mordred's blast was unexpected and Duo found himself struggling to hold up his wall. The force had nearly destroyed his wall but the chill passed it altogether and struck him to the bone. Mordred was right, he was no shape to face him now.

Guess there was only one thing left to do now…

Duo blasted his wall at Mordred and spun around, running towards Solo's prone body. With another blast, Mordred stopped Duo attack and fired another icy blast at the braided one.

By then Duo was at Solo side and placing a hand on the other's shoulder, he warped both of them away just as Mordred's blast struck and froze the surrounding area.

"Missed," Mordred hissed, brow creasing. "Next time Duo. Next time."


	19. A Series of Coincidences

Author's Note: Oh no, it's the plot! Yep, for all you action junkies this is going to be a long boring chapter for you. To tell the truth, the last battle ended in the last chapter took so long to make that you have no idea how relieved I was after four chapters of it. But now for some boring stuff. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence

A Series of Coincidences

The protests in Washington were being quashed out, something that was happening too quickly for Keppel's tastes. At first, it had seemed like the public was getting behind the gun-toting rednecks who had taken the first shots against the Septum Administration, the ragtag group of citizens growing every day. Then Septum had responded with lethal force and suddenly everyone had something else to do other than defend their freedoms from a tyrant.

There was no doubt in Keppel's mind that he would have to take his forces and strike. The only questions that remained were when and how.

Much as he didn't like it, he was going to need information from Khushrenada and an order to an eager Lieutenant Merquise was all it was going to take. As he waited for the intelligence, he had some of the best strategists he could find in the camp going over all they had from manpower and resources to what they were capable of doing and not doing. There wasn't much he could work with but he was going to use everything he had to try and at least do something.

Time was not on their side and the quicker they could act, the better.

The ethereal sight of Lieutenant Merquise, Lieutenant Noin by his side, making his way towards the tent was both one of dread and expectance. Expectance because Khushrenada knew better than to give them faulty intel and dread because this was one of the last things he wanted to do.

"What's the word from the Colonel?" he spoke up once he was sure the lieutenants were within hearing range.

"We have an opportunity but we need to move fast to use it," Zechs announced. Septum's sending more of his men to where the citizen militia is and fortifying his lines there."

"And how is this going to be helping us?" Keppel asked dryly.

"There is a point in time in which a part of Washington will not closed off," Noin answered. "Between a sentry change and the movement of soldiers, for ten minutes there will be a point of entry near the Chesapeake where we can insert some of your men and head towards the White House."

"Hmm," Keppel murmured. "How does Khushrenada know this?" he asked.

"He told us he calculated it," Zechs explained. "However, I have to admit that I was a bit put off about it. It was as if he knew for sure about it."

"Go on," Keppel said.

"He was _too_ sure," Zechs said. "Normally, Trieze would mention about potential obstacles to be careful about."

"And he didn't mention those this time," Keppel finished. "Sounds fishy Lieutenant. Could it be that the Colonel is setting us up for a trap?"

"He would never do that!" Noin declared.

"How sure are you about that?" Keppel said. "You might be willing to put your full faith in Khushrenada but I'm not. I'm not about to put blind faith into something, especially if someone that I've never trusted is involved."

"Then I will," Zechs stated, straightening his shoulders.

"What?" That was the only thing Keppel could think to say, caught off guard by the unexpected volunteering.

"Zechs!" Noin exclaimed, looking at her fellow officer in shock.

"I will lead a team into the city using Trieze's intel to guide us and take out Septum and anyone who happens to get in our way," Zechs said. "Meanwhile, you launch a frontal assault on Septum's forces and distract him from noticing the infiltration. If all turns out well, we'll have control of the city and the federal government."

"You're sure you want to do that?" Keppel questioned. "If we do decided to do that sort of plan, you'll be placing yourself and us in immense danger."

"Do we have any other plans available?" Zechs asked.

Keppel shifted uncomfortably. "Not at the moment. We're still 'debating' strategies."

"We don't have much time," Zechs stated. "If we want to get that team in, we have to get it organized in the next few hours or else we'll miss our chance."

"Point," Keppel acknowledged. He sat back and mulled over all the arguments presented to him, being unnervingly silent much to the two lieutenants' distaste. As the minutes passed, the two younger officers began shifting their weight from one foot to the other, their anxiety over the General's decision with each quiet minute that passed.

"Very well," Keppel spoke, almost surprising the lieutenants. "I'll bring the subject up with the others while you get ready and your team formed. After that, it'll be your show, Lieutenant."

"Yes sir," Zechs replied, inwardly elated.

"Don't let me regret this now," Keppel warned. "I'm putting a lot of faith into you Merquise. Don't let me down.

---

Noin was far from happy about the decision and once the two were far enough away from Keppel, she let her comrade know it.

Barely five words had left her mouth before Zechs cut her off. "Noin. I appreciate your concern but right now is not the best of times to express it."

"Zechs," Noin sighed exasperatedly. "I know that you're suspicious of Trieze's last communication; you told Keppel just as much. Are you really sure that this isn't a trap? I don't want you getting killed."

"I know that, Lu," Zechs replied as he reached their tent, starting to peel off his uniform so that he could get changed into something more hard-wearing. Where did he put those hair wraps now?

"Zechs!" Noin protested. "You just…I don't want you getting hurt."

"I know that too," Zechs said as his muscular torso was unveiled. "Trust me, getting hurt is at the bottom of my list of things to do, just above getting killed."

"This isn't a joke!" Noin exclaimed. "I don't want to lose you…not now…I—"

She was suddenly interrupted by a heated kiss from the one man to whom her heart belonged. She grasped at his bare shoulders and used his stronger body to keep herself on her feet as he pulled away.

"I know, Lu," Zechs stated, pronouncing each and every word he said. "And I won't get killed. Trust me on that. I will return, you can count on it and then I will never leave you again. Do you hear me?"

"Zechs…" Noin breathed, nearly speechless.

And then she was pulled into another heated kiss.

---

"Stupid piece of junk!" Xavien growled as he whapped the top of his computer, the machine malfunctioning and not working as he wanted it. The monitor kept freezing up and whenever he started to reboot, the hardrive would get all screwy on him and now he was beginning to reach the frayed end of his short patience.

That is to say he had little to begin with in the first place.

This wasn't a first time occurrence. In fact, it seemed that anything that happened to be electrical in nature went haywire. At first it had been a mild irritant that he could just wave aside but with every day that passed, it got worse.

Now just being in a five foot radius of an electronic device created circuital chaos. Not even a remote control found function properly in his hands and that was slowly becoming the final straw.

And then there was someone pounding on his office door…

His eyes snapped over to glare at the metal barrier and wait for whoever was on the other side to enter. Eventually, the banging stopped but Xavien was nowhere near expecting that the person intruding on his solitude had left. He was soon proven right as the door began to be pried open by…

Oh, it was them.

It was…okay, so he hadn't memorized _all_ the weapons' numbers but who could expect him to? There were so many and not all of them were important. He could be forgiven for not remembering just a few of their serial numbers.

What could not be forgiven was the redhead who seemed to be the one in charge who slammed their fist onto his desk as if he owned the place. No one but him could only do that.

"What seems to be the problem?" he drawled, mentally noting to find out how two of his weapons had gotten all the way to this room without the alarm sounding. It was getting irritating, these unexpected surprises…

"You're the problem!" the redhead declared. It took him a moment to remember that this particular weapon was one of the few surviving Angel Boys, the one that increased his strength from absorbing others' anger. "What's your deal man?!"

"What 'deal' are you talking about?" Xavien questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"I need some fucking action already!" the redhead thundered. "What are you thinking keeping us locked up here and sending out others to have fun?! It's not fair!"

"'Fair?'" Xavien repeated.

"You heard me!" the redhead growled.

"And what do you propose we do about this?" Xavien asked, leaning back into his chair, his arms vanishing beneath his desk.

"Maybe we need a change of leadership 'round here," the redhead grinned ferally.

Turning his attention to the pale boy whom his mind labeled as the art freak, he asked, "Do you feel the same way?"

The pale boy shrugged, "Not really. Michael dragged me here."

Looking back at the redhead, he then smirked. "So you think that perhaps you can do a better job than I am?"

"I don't think, I know," the redhead replied.

"Really," Xavien said and raised an arm back into sight.

There was a bright flash and suddenly the redhead's body was convulsing from electrical current invading him. The moment he stopped convulsing, he collapsed onto the floor bonelessly, muscles spasmodically twitching.

In his hand, Xavien held what looked like to be a gray, futuristic, metal tube with his thumb on top of a button on the top of it. From the end that was pointing straight in the direction where the redhead had been standing, small little electrical bolts sparked out.

"Thank you for becoming the first guinea pig for the latest in XAI's taser technology," Xavien said sardonically. "This one is just another product of the many that has been spawned from the program that created you, an electrical firing mechanism that shoots anywhere from one thousand to one hundred thousand volts of electrical current straight into a person's body, the nervous system in particular, and can temporarily or permanently stun its target. At the proper setting, it can kill a normal person but since you and your brethren are not normal, this should be nothing but a walk in the park for you."

The redhead could only twitch in response.

"Glad you can appreciate it," Xavien grinned. "I had this one specifically designed so that no outside electrical interference can affect it since there were two weapons with the ability to manipulate lightning at one point. It's the only thing around in this place that functions properly nowadays."

Looking up towards the redhead's pale companion, he frowned as he found the other weapon staring at a wall, as if unaware of anything transpiring around him. Throughout the previous exchange, the weapon had begun wandering about the office, not paying the slightest attention to his surroundings.

That would be something he would remedy now.

"Snap out of it," he snarled at the pale weapon, capturing its attention for the moment. "Now, I want you to listen to me carefully and when your little friend wakes up, tell him the same. According to the information I have gathered, our little renegades are making their way back here. You are to intercept and eliminate all except for #11085. Do I make myself clear?"

The pale weapon nodded in the positive.

"Then go," Xavien ordered as he reclined back into his chair.

---

Tomorrow would be the day.

That was what Wufei promised himself as he stole into the bedroom his uncle had lent to him during his stay. He had ducked into the privacy this room promised him for a single purpose: he release a hacking fit of coughs in which blood ended up splattering against his hand before he was through.

His illness was getting worse and all the medication he had gotten his hands on to treat it were all becoming ineffective. Whatever it was that he had been infected with was killing him inch by inch, a bitter realization for the Chinese youth. If he hadn't killed Samayaza already, he would have killed him for this injustice.

But nonetheless, his plans for tomorrow were solid. Dorothy would lead him back to Boulder, Arizona and from there he would make his way to the hidden base from which Project Maxwell was conducted. If he was to die, then he'd take as many of his enemy with him as possible.

But first thing was first, he had to get back to that complex.

His body was taken over by another coughing fit, one that forced him to use his bed to keep from falling to the floor. He was unaware of the presence beside him until after his fit had subsided and he felt a strong hand rubbing his back, trying to ease whatever spasms his muscles underwent with each cough. There could only be one person who that could be.

"Thank you Uncle," he gasped out, panting heavily.

"I wish there was more I can do," the middle aged man said sorrowfully. "At the very least, take some of your suffering from you. Lord only knows how much you've suffered in your short life."

"I appreciate your concern," Wufei managed to say, "but there's nothing that can be done about it. If there is one thing, it would be to express these disservices to the ones who caused them in the first place."

"I can only wish that there was more that I could do to help," Deng spoke.

"You've done more than enough," Wufei said, allowing a small smile to grace his blood flecked lips before a few coughs escaped them.

Patting his back some more, Deng said, "You know my thoughts on your leaving tomorrow, Wufei. At the very least—"

"No Uncle," Wufei interrupted. "I'll drive the car myself but I refuse to get you more involved than you already are. It's bad enough that I have that…_woman_ accompanying me."

"She is stubborn," Deng chuckled.

"Or hardheaded," Wufei scoffed. "The fact she still hasn't learned that this is beyond her speaks volumes about her intelligence. If she doesn't realize her limitations, she's going to get herself killed."

"I'm in full agreement with you there," Deng said. "If Dorothy isn't careful, she'll become another casualty and that would be a shame after all that she's been through."

"Then I'll have to make sure she doesn't get killed then," Wufei sighed. "As if I didn't have enough to worry about."

"Just concentrate on your purpose for doing this," Deng advised. "There will always be factors that will be beyond your control. You must be able to adapt to whatever is thrown at you else you will fail due to inflexibility."

"Once again, I thank you uncle," Wufei said.

"Just try and come back alive," Dengs replied.

"You know I can't promise that," Wufei sighed forlornly, his eyes sliding over to the window where the dark night sky encompassed all.

---

_This place is familiar,_ Jason Ciliars thought to himself as he trudged through the cold desert landscape that he found himself in. Ever since he had escaped the Winner Compound that he had allowed himself to be imprisoned in, he had just been wandering about the American West, finding bars to drink in and work at destroying his liver.

It wasn't as if he had anything better to do. It was only a matter of time before they found him again and he was captured so why not just drink himself to the point that he wouldn't know what the hell was going on?

Hell yeah that sounded like a great plan.

But it didn't explain why he was having that sense of déjà vu though. He could swear that he had been before but that was not possible since he had never…wait, that place looked familiar.

Holy crap, it was that biker bar! Or at least it was the remodeled biker bar, all the damage his former team and he had done the last time he was here. Looked more family friendly, that is if you took away those annoying neon signs that advertised beer. Oh well, as long as he had something to drink he could care less about what it looked like or those pickup trucks and suburbans parked in front of it.

At least, he didn't care until after he walked in and found himself staring at a bunch of burly Arabs who were all looking at him as if they had been expecting him for some time. It wasn't as if they had turned their heads away from whatever they had been doing before he rudely slammed opened the door; no, they had been staring straight at the door as if they had been doing it for several hours.

And then, in the center of all these men was an oddity; a small, handsome, _blond_ oddity.

"Oh hell, it's you again, girly-man," he complained.

Quatre bristled. "Nice to see you too, Jason," he spat as if those words were the most poisonous things he had ever tasted.

"As much fun as this has been, see ya later," Jason quipped as he spun around and started heading out the way he came: through the front door.

He stopped as he heard the sound of many chairs scrapping against the floor as the Arabian men who filled the room stood up to their feet. It looked like they weren't going to let him leave so easily…eh, it was their lives.

"Do we really have to go through with this?" he said sardonically, turning his head just enough so he could glance at Quatre from the corner of his eye. "Both you and I know that these guys don't stand a chance against me."

"Looks like somebody's sober," Quatre snarked.

"A shame, isn't it?" Jason agreed. "Haven't had a damn drink today and it's making me cranky."

"Then how about we share one while we go over a…proposition of mine," Quatre said, looking as if he was just talking about weather.

"A…proposition?" Jason repeated. "What…kind of proposition? And speak English; that business mumbo jumbo ain't gonna cut it here."

"As you wish," Quatre replied. "I want you to lead me back to Xavien's base, specifically the one where he's holed up."

"He's a rich motherfucker," Jason retorted. "He probably has hundreds of them."

"Let me clarify that," Quatre said. "When I meant was I want you to lead me to the base where Xavien made you into what you are today, the very heart of Project Maxwell."

Jason paused. Well…that was certainly blunt. Not what would be his retort?

"What do I get out of this?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Well, with Xavien out of the way and Project Maxwell terminated, permanently, there'll be no need for you to run anymore. You'll finally be able to live in peace," Quatre stated.

"No more running, eh?" Jason commented, his eyes staring off into space as he seemingly contemplated the possibilities. "That it?" he finally asked. "It's gonna take more than that to get me to agree to your 'proposition,' girly-man."

Quatre blinked in surprised, as if he hadn't considered such an option. "You mean…security isn't enough for you?"

"Bingo," Jason quipped.

Eyes narrowing, Quatre said, "How about one hundred thousand?"

"American?" Jason asked immediately.

"Of course," Quatre replied.

"You still paying for the drink?"

"Supporting an addict's habit? Sure."

"Then you have a deal," Jason said, smiling grimly.


	20. Black Op

Author's Note: Quick update but I know how you guys like this kinda thing. Finished up a chapter much quicker than anticipated but you all get to reap the benefits nonetheless. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language

Black Op

"I'm beginning to wonder how you managed to get this far without me," Duo muttered. "You have this habit of getting yourself into trouble every time I'm not looking."

"Oh, like you're one ta talk!" Solo retorted. "I cross a fuckin' desert and nearly get killed three fuckin' times lookin' for ya and this is da thanks I get? Ungrateful brat."

"Oh, that hurts, right through the heart," Duo replied melodramatically. "Now stay still, I'm trying to speed your recovery up so that we can get going."

"Only you would think of that," Solo muttered, nevertheless relaxing against the rough concrete floor in which he laid on.

The novelty of their reunion had worn off quite some time ago, particularly when the blond began noticing the changes in his friend's behavior. He wasn't Kid but he wasn't quite Reaper either. His eyes had changed, their color especially, and the way the braided one held himself was a far cry from the multiple personality he was used to.

And yet, he couldn't have cared less; the fact that he actually had someone to banter with again was a stress reliever and he made a mental note to find out just who gave his friend a spine and thank them for it.

Duo had changed though, no question about it and while he could welcome some things, there were some things that he found he missed. For example, that innocence that Kid Duo had was gone and the dependence the braided one once held for him was gone as well. He never thought he would missed those, especially the sensation of someone relying on you and you alone to get them through whatever storm they found their self in.

The Duo that he was with now was a combination of the two personalities, embodying both the good and bad of each personality. He was like Reaper only less homicidal yet he was still blunt like Kid was. It was a dynamic he was just going to have to get used to, he supposed.

At the moment, Duo was using his powers to speed Asmodai's poison out of him while working with the antitoxin to fix up the damage leftover by the poison. It was a slow process to be sure and Solo was really getting bored just laying around doing nothing but Duo was adamant in making him stay still.

If he didn't know any better, he'd say he was getting nagged…

"That should do for now," Duo finally sighed as he relinquished his hold on his powers. Trying to speed up a person's natural recovery wasn't easy and trying to do it slow enough so as to catch complications was a bitch in and of itself.

"'bout time," Solo muttered as he sat up. "Thought I'd die of boredom at da rate ya were goin'."

"Excuse me for trying to help," Duo retorted. "You really fucked up letting that snake venom get into you, you know. You should be thankful—" he emphasized here with a slap against Solo's broad chest, "—and praising me for how great I am. Honestly, is a little respect too much to ask for from you?"

"You bet," Solo replied, slipping his top back on. "I don't give anybody respect. It's like my number one rule."

"And it sucks donkey nuts," Duo grumbled. "If I was one of those girls with the Jap, I bet you'd be falling over yourself trying to please me."

"No way in hell," Solo snorted, fixing his frayed yet durable bulletproof vest. "Never gave Ms. Eyebrows or her whiny friend any and don't plan on starting now."

"Your people skills have improved, haven't they?" Duo drawled. "Usually, you would punch somebody's lights out if they looked at you wrong. Now you're here and I can't shut you up."

"Things change," Solo shrugged, eyeing Duo. "And you're one ta talk, Mr. Single Personality. What happened ta ya anyway? First you were in one place, then another, and then gone."

"What can I say? I get around," Duo answered.

"Just answer da question Duo," Solo said. "I've been tearing the desert apart lookin' for ya. Don't think ya can wiggle your way out now."

"I can and I will," Duo stated. "We have more important things to worry about then what I've been doing that you're not aware of."

"Bullshit!" Solo exclaimed. "What could be more important that this?"

"How about going after the assholes who put us here?" Duo suggested dryly. "They're still out there, ya know? And after our last fight, they're looking to trying ta kill you the first chance they get. They almost did kill you last time and if I hadn't been there, you would be dead."

"That it?" Solo snorted. "I've had worse."

"I doubt that," Duo said. "You're a one man weapon of mass destruction; I bet they would have come up with something to have taken you out a long time ago if you truly had 'worse'."

"Stop using logic," Solo grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest. "It ain't fair."

"No one ever said it was," Duo quipped back at him. "As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I think it's time we paid the assholes from XAI a little visit."

"What kind of visit?" Solo questioned.

"The usual kind: mayhem and destruction, blow a underground lair to smithereens, give a little thank you to the man in charge and send him on a one way ticket to hell," Duo answered cheerfully. "We can't let them get away with what they did to us."

"Now you're speakin' my language," Solo smirked as he cracked his knuckles. "Only problem with what you said is how we gonna get there? I don't know how ta get back."

"That's an easy one," Duo said. "We start off at the first place we came to after escaping."

"Ya mean that town?" Solo asked, trying to recall it.

"What's left of it," Duo shrugged in response. "It's not like we can go straight back to that base; the guy in charge is somehow blocking me from just warping there. We'll have to go on foot and if I remember right, you're a fast runner."

---

It was under the cover of darkness that a black clad Zechs Merquise was introduced to his small team of covert operates and led towards the tent where the briefing would take place.

With his long hair wrapped and tucked under his black combat gear, the Lieutenant looked a far cry away from the dazzling beauty that he was when in uniform. He was dressed for a black op, not the first mind you, and was more than ready to get down to business in his tight black pants, heavy boots, and black capped head. He remained standing as did all the men who would be a part of his team mainly due to the fact that he was heavily armed with knives, pistols, and an M-16 assault rifle.

Before him and the men stood the stern figure of General Keppel who held none of the patience and kindness that he usually glowed with. He eyed each and every man with an uncharacteristic look, not even moving to pace in front of them as he weighed them all in his mind.

"You are all probably aware of why you're here tonight," Keppel spoke up with an authoritarian voice that Zechs was a bit surprised to hear coming. "For those of you who don't, I'll tell you right now that what you are about to do is incredibly risky and dangerous. This is your last chance to leave and once you've heard what your mission is, you will not have the choice to abdicate. Am I making myself clear?"

None of the men responded; they didn't need to. All they had to do was walk out of the tent if they so chose not to participate.

No one did.

"As of right now, you are all committed to one goal and one goal alone," Keppel announced, taking the silent answer as the go ahead to continue. "Your mission is to infiltrate the city of Washington D.C. and assassinate General Septum while the main force of our army challenges him. Eliminate all who get in your way, no exceptions. Lieutenant Merquise here will be your commanding officer and it will be he who leads you behind enemy lines. Are you willing to accept this?"

A loud "Yes Sir!" was yelled at him and with a nod, the General responded with a "May God bless you," before turning towards Zechs. "The floor is yours."

Stepping aside, Zechs took Keppel's place in the front. His face remained passive and emotionless as he scanned the ten or so men who would be under his command. Each looked back at him with blank stares, awaiting his orders and strategy. This wasn't the first time he had done something like this so he was already at ease when he began to speak.

"As of right now, the city is heavily guarded but not fortified," Zechs started. "Septum does not have enough men to cover the ten by ten mile area that comprises Washington, a fact that we can take advantage of. We will enter here," he pointed at the enlarged map of the city, specifically a blue area that symbolized water, "on the Potomac, close to the Arlington Bridge. If we time it correctly, we'll be able to sneak under the radar of the guards and foot soldiers that are to be moving towards the front lines.

"According to our inside sources, we will have a ten minute window in which we will have to race towards the Lincoln Memorial where we will halt and wait for the sentries to pass and take up their posts. From there, we'll make our way through the Vietnam Veterans Memorial to Constitution Avenue and from there head to Pennsylvania Avenue to the White House. All our intelligence indicates that Septum has holed up in there.

"Our number one priority is to not be seen and to terminate anyone who does. That means at the most, we can only afford to be seen by one or two sentries but groups are out of the question. Not only that, there have been reports of two young individuals usually seen at Septum's side. We don't know much except they are extremely dangerous so if you spot them, shoot on sight and not a moment later.

"If we are separated, we will rendezvous here at the Department of Commerce. Are there any questions?"

Several hands raised up; whether or not they were for the same question, Zechs did not know but figured it would be best to take care of them now. Pointing to the closest, the soldier asked, "In case we are captured, what would be our contingency plan?"

"Glad you asked that," Zechs said. "In the event that does happen, trying and take down as many men as you can. One more soldier dead is one less soldier our forces have to deal with."

Another hand. "Is this a suicide mission, Sir?"

"Depends," Zechs answered. "If we are to fail, then yes it will be. But if we succeed, then we will have saved our nation from a would-be tyrant."

Translation: Yes.

Apparently, the men received the nonverbal translation since none of them raised their hands to ask any further questions. Waiting a moment longer just to be sure, he nodded in finality.

"Then move out."

---

The waters of the Potomac River were cold, their chill felt even under the skin tight wetsuits that the armed rebels wore. For an makeshift army that Keppel had been able to round up before deserting, it was a well stocked one as long as you were looking for food.

The underwater incursion equipment, however, needed to be stolen first from a nearby military instillation under Septum's control, but Keppel had had that taken care of beforehand. Thus, Zechs' men were able to set out almost immediately, only having to reach a body of water first and then proceed to swim to their penetration point.

In order to not be spotted, they had to swim close to the floor of the river, the murkiness of the riverbed obscuring their vision. Fortunately, a little GPS was able to keep them on track, insuring that they wouldn't leave their watery cover too soon or too late. Timing would be everything here and Zechs was more than determined to get this right on the first try.

Dawn was steadily approaching them and even though it would be a few hours until the sun showed its radiant self, Zechs preferred to be in position long before it became a worry. Also Septum could change his mind and send his sentries' relief earlier than expected, thus making Trieze's information useless. Not only that, dawn was also the time picked out by Keppel when the main bulk of the rebel forces would strike.

No pressure, right?

"_We are passing checkpoint Foxtrot and approaching the Bridge as schedule."_ Zechs heard via an earpiece. The man with the GPS was doing his job well. Adrenaline was running his veins and anticipation was filling him to the brim with energy. He kicked a little harder with his flippers and propelled himself further along the riverbed.

He had to resist taking a look at his wristwatch; as much as he wanted to know the time, he did not want to give their presence away by action and get them all killed. That was at least one thing that Trieze couldn't guarantee.

Their safety would always be held in question in something like this.

But if he was to die, then it would be in good company; dedicated men of the armed service more than willing to give up their lives for their beliefs, there were none like them. If they were to die this morning, Zechs wouldn't have it any other way that to be in their presence.

"_We've arrived at the Bridge Checkpoint,_" their navigator reported. "_EPA to emergence: one hundred ten minutes._"

"_Keep low, Otto and I shall check it out,_" Zechs ordered, a nearby teammate nodding his head in compliance.

As the rest of the men gathered around, Zechs and the designated Otto swam upwards, hiding anything that could give away their positions as best as they could. Surfacing went by almost unnoticed and if it hadn't been for the bridge right above their heads, well, Zechs didn't want to contemplate that possibility.

But it was not to be; the bridge was overhead and even though he could hear the voices of armed men patrol above and about, neither he nor Otto were seen. Gesturing to his partner with quick hand signals, the two swam as quietly as they could to one end of the bridge, keeping low in the river as they hid below the overhang.

"Status?" Zechs questioned quietly.

"All green," Otto answered in a low, rumbling voice. "See anything?"

"Negative," Zechs replied. "Everything is as what we've been told. We'll have to lie low for a bit until the shift changes and we can move out. I'm going back down and sending someone to take my place. Wait ten minutes and then you can come down for your relief."

"Roger," Otto said and settled back as Zechs submerged again, heading back down to where the rest of the team was.

It was going to be a long wait.


	21. The Battle for Washington

Author's Note: Lots of juxtaposition, lots of action, yadda yadda yadda, you know the drill by now.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death

The Battle for Washington

As the first rays of dawn began to creep over the horizon, Septum stood before the clear windows of the Oval Office, doing nothing but stare out onto the city that he could truly claim as his.

However, his mind was not a blank slate as dozens of scenarios ran through his head and he had the urge to make sure that everything was set up as planned. It could nearly be called a compulsion as he picked up the nearby black phone and rang up the weapon known to him as Copy Chris.

"Is everything ready?" he demanded immediately once someone picked up, cutting out any chance of chitchat.

"_It is," _Copy Chris answered, slightly annoyed. "_It was ready the last time you called and it was ready the time before that. I know what I'm doing already so let me handle it!"_

"Don't give me any lip," Septum snapped back.

"_Yes sir,"_ Copy Chris said and the General could feel the weapon rolling his eyes in exasperation.

Without having anything else he needed to say or ask, Septum hung up rudely and refocused his attention back to the windows of the office, _his_ office now.

"You know you're just being paranoid," Rex spoke up carelessly. "Everything is ready and everything going to go without a hitch. At the rate you're going, you're going to get a cornea or something."

"It's an ulcer," Septum replied listlessly, not turning around to face the weapon.

"Whatever," Rex shrugged. "I still say you're paranoid."

"And I don't care about what you have to say," Septum retorted. "Today is the day we end all threats to my rule and I am going to be damn sure that this _will_ be the last day."

---

The light brightening of the sky that was the telltale sign that the sun was arriving was the signal that sent Zechs and his team streaking out from their position under the Arlington Bridge and into the War Veterans' Memorials. To be precise, it was the black, reflective surface of the Vietnam Veterans' Memorial that their presence darted in front of, the armed men keeping low to the ground and on high alert.

It had turned out that Trieze's information was correct and the small window of time when a break in Septum's security lines was present occurred. Without wasting another breath, they removed their wetsuits and hid their equipment under the dark waters of the Potomac before stealing out on their dark mission.

Constitution was nearby and their plan was to stay along it until the intersection that led the way to Pennsylvania arrived. That would be a tricky part, especially since the hours of darkness were slowly changing into daylight.

Whatever cover they still had would soon be gone. They would just have to trust in Keppel and the distraction he would be providing.

---

"Our team is on their way," Keppel spoke to himself, looking down at the pocket watch that he held. Glancing up to his officers, he called out, "Move out!"

---

"Morons," Brett muttered to himself as he spied the armed team sneaking their way closer to the White House, watching their every move through his borrowed binoculars.

He had been waiting for sign of them for quite some time; he'd rather have been out on the front lines, massacring those annoying rednecks with the shotguns but Septum had insisted and since he was suppose to keep a close eye on the General, he had to submit and obey.

_For now…_

Taking out his radio, he reported, "Our friends have arrived and are heading for the party."

---

Time was moving much too fast for Zechs' liking.

The sun was making its debut on the horizon, the dim lighting from the street lights were being flashed off, and Septum's men were becoming more and more awake with each passing minute. Already they had had two close calls, one of which almost blew their cover, and they had barely left the Memorial grounds. The White House was still a vague specter at this point, something that could only be seen from white flashes in the green shrubbery.

Suffice to say, if he had been a lesser man, he would be disheartened.

"Lieutentant! Boogies at ten o'clock and closing!" one of his teammates hissed, causing all the others to tense up. The patrols were appearing closer and closer to one another; it was as if Septum was trying to catch intruders sneaking around the conquered city.

This new group that showed up wasn't a sentry but a long line of troops most likely heading for the front. Glancing at the sun, Zechs mentally noted that now was about the time of day the rednecks would begin shooting. This influx of troops showed that Septum meant business this time and was hoping to eradicate the pest problem he was experiencing.

Well, that problem was about to get worse, Zechs thought to himself.

However, it wasn't just been troops that were marching down Constitution.

Tanks and heavy artillery cannons were being transported directly behind the troops, the tanks breaking up the pavement behind them and the tractor trailers transporting the cannons following at a slower pace due to the wrecked street.

"He's gone mad," Zech muttered to himself.

Septum was really going all out this time; they didn't have much time left to assassinate the man and his insanity. Stealth was starting to become the least of their worries now; they were going to have to reveal themselves now and make their way overtly if they wanted to end this before anymore unnecessary blood was spilt.

"Enough with sneaking around, we're making a run for it," Zechs ordered, surprising the men behind him.

"But sir—" one of the men began to speak only to get cut off.

"There's no time," Zechs interrupted. "Move as fast as you can to the White House and kill anyone who happens to spot us."

"I don't think so."

The new voice brought the Lieutenant's gaze up to the sight of a few armed men blocking their way. Behind them, the thunderous sound of approaching men closed in on them and Zechs knew they would soon be surrounded. Not only that, a tank had pulled up behind the first group of men, its barrel aimed straight at them.

"General Septum has been expecting you," the leader of the armed men spoke, an ominous sneer on his face.

---

"Scouts report troop movement in the Capital," the soldier the stated. "They're heading towards the protesters and will arrive there any minute."

"Is everyone in position?" Keppel demanded. The General didn't like the sound of this but it did reveal that Septum had no real knowledge of their plans. It was a blessing as it was a curse at the same time.

Listening via the radio, Noin reported, "All except for MacKinley's group; they need a few more minutes to get into position."

"No time," Keppel said. "Give them orders to strike as soon as possible and tell the others to attack now. Those protesters will be massacred if we wait too long."

---

Instead of being taken to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Zechs and his team were taken towards the Capital Building, the marble structure towering over them not looking the worse for wear despite the massacres that had taken place inside it weeks before. Zechs could only frown at this; why were they being taken here? Shouldn't Septum be back at the White House lording over all of them?

Their weapons had been taken from them upon capture and their bodies searched for any hidden ones. They were helpless and at the mercy of their captors, to be sure, and whenever one wasn't walking fast enough for their escort, an armed man would rudely shove them to get them moving faster.

He could see why these men allied with Septum; they were all as cruel and despotic as the General himself.

The marble structure was a foreboding sight, the shadow of the building falling over them and filling them all with a sense of menace. There was no air of freedom or democracy here anymore; instead, Septum's autocracy replaced it and Zechs could feel his spirit dampen as he entered through the large doors.

Septum was waiting for them in the large domed room, a pale, dim light illuminating it barely, and the man looked incredibly smug for such a gruff person. However, it was the person standing beside him that captured Zechs' attention.

"You!" Zechs nearly bellowed. "Why—"

Before he could say anymore or do anything, he was jarred by the butt of an assault rifle into his neck and he almost lost consciousness from the pain that throbbed.

Beside Septum was none other than Trieze.

"Glad to see you made it here in one piece," Trieze commented, not looking as if he was concerned for Zechs' welfare.

As Zechs' men came to his aid and surrounded him, the blond could only stare back with a look that was a mix of betrayal, anger, and misery. Keppel hadn't been blowing smoke at all and it looked like Zechs was going to have to pay the price for his loyalty.

But…why? Why would Trieze forsake them like this? Why would he do this especially since he had been fighting against the very people who threatened their way of life? It didn't make any sense…unless he hadn't known who Trieze really was in the first place…

"Worked like a charm," Septum gloated. "At last we can have some real intel on the Resistance and actually do something about them now. Before this day is through, all who oppose me will be crushed and broken and the country will truly be mine at last."

"What makes you think we'll talk?!" one of Zechs' men, Otto if he remembered correctly, shouted.

"Oh, you'll talk," Septum sneered down at them. "In fact, you'll be wanting to tell us everything from Keppel's whereabouts to the way your mother and father met. Brett!"

From the shadows emerged a tall, dark haired boy and after one look at him, Zechs knew there wasn't something right about this boy. It may have been the confident manner in which he walked, the skintight black uniform he wore, or the bright gleam in his eye but Zechs could only watch this man-child close in on them, stalk to them like a true predator and feel dread.

He knew a killer when he saw one and all the signs screamed at the Lieutenant that the boy had spilled blood…and enjoyed it.

Snapping his arm out, a long dagger shot out of the cuff of his sleeve, the dim light of the room reflecting off the sharpened edge. Now closer in proximity, the gleam in Brett's eye made him look crazed and caused quite a few of the men, not just his but Septum's as well, to take a step back.

"We need a volunteer," Septum announced, seemingly not affected by the dark clad boy. "Anybody willing?"

When none were forthcoming, each and every one eyeing Septum and Brett warily, Septum gestured with a hand and one of the covert operatives was grabbed and forced in front of Brett.

With a near lightning quick strike, he cut his blade into the man's arm, leaving only a shallow gash that, when healed, wouldn't leave a scar. Sure, blood trickled from it but the pain involved was so miniscule that it wasn't even noticed.

But…why did Septum look like the best part was about to come?

Defying the laws of physics and any kind of scientific fact that Zechs Merquise knew, the blood in the wounded man's body began rushing out from that small cut, the crimson liquid hovering in the air as a spherical orb and leaving the man looking like a shriveled up husk. Without warning, the blood surrounded its owner's body and squeezed down on it, crushing it until it was little more than a small mass of bones, organs, and tissue.

The incredibly small piece of matter fell to the marble floor with a sickening splat.

Horror. It was horror that was engraved on all the men's faces, both sides in fact. The brutal and horrifying killing was too much, even for these hardened warriors. Only Trieze and Septum seemed unaffected as Trieze held a look of disinterest and Septum was grinning like a madman.

"So," the General began. "Is there anything you would like to talk about now?"

That was the catalyst that triggered Zechs' response. "What the hell was that?! What happened?! What the _fuck_ is going on?!"

Clearly not anticipating this line of conversation, Septum merely laughed in amusement before answering, "This is just the fruits of Project Maxwell, Merquise. And he's not the only one; there was more. Imagine, with these weapons I will not only be able to unite the American people but the entire world will have to submit. Just one of them can demolish an entire city, just like an nuclear weapon but without the harmful side effects.

"We're in a new world, Lieutenant, a world filled with a new kind of enemy and if we want to triumph, we must begin using different tactics. Project Maxwell not only guarantees this, it opens up not just into a new kind of weaponry but how wars will be fought from now on. And for the first time in history, the entire world will be united under one government, one that will not only put an end to all conflict but ensure everlasting peace."

"It'll be your government and the peace that will be…will be that of a prison," Zechs snarled, glaring balefully at the General. Snapping his glare to Trieze, he demanded, "How can you go along with this, Trieze? I thought this was the very thing you were fighting against!"

"Personally, I could really careless about what's happening," Trieze drawled uncharacteristically, raising his hands in an unfamiliar gesture that Zechs had never seen the man perform before. "The whole world can burn for all I care; it's not anything that concerns me."

"How can you say that?" Zechs gasped, the betrayal in his voice palpable.

"Easy," Trieze shrugged. "I just stand here and do nothing." Seeing Zechs' look of disgust and dismay, he added, "Don't look so glum. Trieze was just as surprised right before I killed him."

That got Zechs' attention. "What?"

The chiseled, aristocratic looks of Trieze Khushrenada melted away, the tall, lean body shrinking slightly and forming a completely different person. In place of the Colonel, there not stood a tall, long haired blond with green eyes and a wicked smirk.

Septum chuckled. "Copy Chris here managed to sniff out Khushrenada a while ago. The opportunity to use Trieze's position was too good not to use and now you've fallen into an obvious trap set by moi. Congratulations."

The duo emotions of relief and fury warred within the Lieutenant; relief for his trust in his friend had been true but fury that such trust was being used against both him and Keppel. His anger must have been obvious because Septum spoke up almost immediately.

"Looks like we have another volunteer. Brett, you know what to do."

"Of course," Brett said, stalking towards Zechs with an unholy glee in his eyes despite his stoic movements.

Instead of being shoved forward by Septum's men, they instead herded the rest of his team away despite their vocal complaints and violent struggle as they tried to get around to pull Zechs back. Zechs, however, glared up at the boy, defiant to the end. If he was to die, he would do looking death straight in the face.

Suddenly, the doors to the building burst open and a lone soldier came stumbling in, interrupting the suspenseful confrontation.

Frowning, Septum bellowed, "What are you doing?!"

"We're under attack!" the man cried out. "The Rebels! They came and they're attacking!"

---

While it was true Septum had been expecting some sort of strike from the Resistance, the fact that it came along with the hit squad was something that he hadn't counted on. The obvious signs of this were how Keppel's army was able to sneak up on Septum's forces from behind without being spotted.

Caught in the middle of fighting untrained protesters, Septum's forces fell into confusion and anarchy as the rebel army fired at them from behind and mowed them down. Sure they had tanks on their side but thanks to the unexpected attack, Keppel's men were able to reach them first and plant C4 explosives on them, their detonation being the signal for the rest of the rebels to attack.

However, what they hadn't counted on was Rex.

With a swipe of his hand, dozens of soldiers burst into flames all the while the boy glaring at their unexpected intrusion heatedly. This wasn't part of their plan, not the bossman's or the General's, and so Rex took his frustration out on anyone who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Unfortunately, that also included Septum's rapidly disorganized soldiers.

A swath of fire and death expanded with Rex at its epicenter. His eyes were positively radiant as they glow with a fiery red-orange; wherever the bright irises landed, more soldiers lost their lives as they were consumed in fire. Out of all the destruction, he left a small oasis of life; this was intentional as a plan had formed in his mind and without a second thought he decided to act on it.

It was just a simple soldier who had half of his face burned but was nonetheless more traumatized by his comrades-in-arms falling to some sinister force that the physical damage that was done to him.

Stomping a foot onto this fallen soldier's chest, he stared down at him malevolently. "How much do you want to live?"

The man's eyes stared back at him in fear and he drank it all up greedily. This sensation of power was addictive and he didn't think a little more would hurt.

"You don't want to die, right?" he pressed. "Then you'll need to make yourself useful, eh? Tell me where your leader is and I'll let you live. Talk!"

But the soldier did not talk, only stare at him as if he was speaking in another language. Without further use, Rex fried him and began searching for another survivor. He would find where the rebel leader was and put an end to this.

A gunshot was heard and pain spiked from his shoulder right where the bullet bit into him. A yelp escape his throat, revealing him to be one who was unused to pain and he clutched at the wound, his murderous gaze searching for whoever shot him.

And he found the perp.

Standing in the midst of the battle was a stern looking lady with cracked glasses and mussed up hair. He stared the woman down who seemed oblivious to the battle raging about them; then again, many people were trying to get as far away from this spot so there wasn't much of a chance that a bullet would be shot at either of them.

"Who the hell are you?" he snarled, his eyes glowing, literally, with malice.

The lady didn't reply with words per say and it was only luck that he was using his powers at the moment that saved him as said lady began shooting at him again. Because he was using his powers, he changed his target at the last second to the gun and used the hammer of the bullet within its chamber as a catalyst to combust the weapon and severely wound the lady's hand.

With a cry of pain, she clenched her wounded hand and stumbled back, falling onto her ass as tears of pain threatened to leak out from her eyes.

Smirking, Rex stalked over to her, taking his time as he had the sadistic urge to lengthen her suffering. She had shot him and now would pay the price for forcing him to feel pain…

"Normally, I'd kill you quickly and get on with my life," he spoke conversationally. "However, I'm gonna make an exception in your case."

The lady growled back at him, her uninjured hand out of sight while her injured hand bled profusely.

Something about her struck him funny and it frowned down at her, trying to recall exactly what it was. "Hey, aren't you that one guy's bitch? The one that Chris killed?"

"His name was Trieze, you son of a bitch," the lady hissed, a gunshot following immediately. Raising her uninjured hand which now held a gun, she fired shot after shot into Rex, not hesitating and until she had fired all the bullets in her gun's clip.

As the bullets ripped through his body, Rex could only stare back at his assailant in shock before he stumbled back and fell, his body laying still on the pavement.

Still pulling the trigger on her empty gun, the lady known as Une could only stare hatefully at the boy's corpse, her tears finally escaping her eyes and trailing down her cheeks.

---

"What?!" Septum bellowed. The General looked as if he was about to blow a gasket but Zechs couldn't help but smirk smugly at the man. Catching the Lieutenant's gaze, Septum glowered. "You knew about this?"

"Let's just say General Keppel is a very proactive rebel," Zechs replied.

A high pitched whistling sound captured their attention next and one by one, the eyes of every man in the room widened. The explosive projectile that had been hurtling through the air detonated right in front of the large entrances and sent small pieces of debris everywhere, ripping into Septum's messenger and killing him.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Zechs threw himself forward and into Brett, grabbing the boy but his bladed arm and ramming into him. The two males fell onto one another and proceeded to wrestle, Brett trying to get just one little cut on the blond while Zechs tried to dispatch the blade.

Meanwhile, the rest of Zechs' men were pulled out of their stupors and reacting as well. Struggling against their captors, they broke free, snatching Septum's men's rifles and firearms while they were at it, and began shooting up a storm. With bullets flying all over the place, as well as how disorganized Septum and his men were, they were mowed down with ease.

Septum, however, remained belly down on the ground and could only watch in increasing rage as his men were being taken down. He had been in control of the situation only a few minutes ago and now he had lost it. There was never anything he hated more than to lose control…

Meanwhile, Zechs had found himself on his back as he continued to struggle with Brett. The boy was much stronger, physically, than he seemed but was nonetheless exerting himself in trying to press his deadly blade against the larger man's skin. With the bullets flying haphazardly as they were, Zechs thought that it wasn't asking too much for just one of the flying projectiles to meet with the killer above him.

But luck wasn't going to be that gracious so the blond knew that he was going to have to triumph on his own. Gritting his teeth as he fought to keep Brett's blade from getting closer to him, he moved his leg between Brett's and then kick his knee up into Brett's groin.

That stopped Brett altogether and Zechs used the boy's sudden immobility by pushing the blade away from him and to a side and delivering a head butt to the face. Shoving the boy off him, he rolled onto his stomach and began to drag himself towards the nearest dead soldier. The corpse had to have some kind of firearm on it and he would feel safer with some sort of weapon in his hand.

Reaching the body, even as the sounds of gunfire begin to decrease, he roams his hands all over the body, becoming so single-minded in this task that he is practically unaware of his surroundings. Finding a handgun, he doesn't check to see if it's loaded as he rolls onto his back, pointing the gun where he last left Brett and clicking the safety off.

Immediately, he rolled to the side as a gelatinous tentacle slams into the floor in which he laid on.

Maybe he had been too involved in his struggle for survival; he had, after all, forgotten that Brett wasn't an ordinary boy but one that held control over liquids. Add to that the fact that there were a lot of dead men, all of whom who were bleeding, and you have the makings of a massacre waiting to happen.

Continuing to roll, Zechs evade each and every liquidy slap that tried to get him and somehow he managed to get back onto his feet. Discharging a few shots, he watched in dismay as the blob of liquid blood caught the bullets and then fire them right back at him. It was a miracle that he didn't get hit when he started running, dodging the bullets as best as he could.

Meanwhile, Brett was really getting focused into the fight, trying to squish the puissant that dared hit him in the family jewels but not really trying hard. He was far from worried about bullets and whatnot, especially since he caught them all with his barrier of blood and repelled each shot back at the shooter, occasionally adding more liquid into his arsenal.

It would be a bit of an understatement that he was just playing around; it wasn't as if he was facing off with somebody else who underwent the bossman's program. These were just some normies, nothing too difficult that he couldn't handle.

"Brett!" The shouting voice managed to pierce through his concentration but he only turned his head enough so that eyed Copy Chris from the corner of his eye. There stood the shapeshifter with the mussed up General beside him and Chris didn't look happy. "We're getting out of here!" the shapeshifter yelled. "Stop playing around and get your ass over here already!"

Brett was half tempted to ignore that and continue playing around but a small voice in his told him that it would be best if he listened. Many of the others who had been chasing Solo and his shadow around the desert hadn't and look what happened to them.

He didn't have much time to think on the matter anyway; a high pitched whistle caused all movement in the room to suddenly stop, the sound getting louder and louder until it was almost upon them.

High above, an explosion punched through the domed roof, caving in a large section of it and breaking it into falling pieces of marble that was heading directly for the group of fighters below.

Seeing death almost upon them, Zechs said to hell with it and ran for his life, seeking cover from the falling rocks that were more than heavy enough to crush all of them. Ducking into a small enclave, he covered his head as large chunks of marble slammed into the smooth, blood drenched floor, the harsh sound of the multiple collisions echoing throughout the large room.

---

Dark streams of smoke rose from the battle weary city as General Keppel made his grand entrance into it. The battle had ended an hour ago, after Septum's forces had surrendered one by one throughout the city and contact with Septum himself had cut off abruptly.

The General could only hope and pray that Zechs' team had succeeded but for now he would have to push it aside.

Surrounded by the destruction and war-induced color jobs of some of the most famous monuments in the nation, Keppel couldn't help but take in a deep breath of air. It was the air of chaos but also that of freedom, freedom fought for, died for, and earned.

It was a memory that he would hold onto for the rest of his days.


	22. So Far Away

Author's Note: Getting on down to the final stretch. That is not to say that the end is in the next couple chapters but there are going to be a few fights scenes for all you action junkies. We're getting back into the basics that was started in The Maxwell Project but the bloodbath is not yet over. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death

So Far Away

Boulder.

It had been a long time since the two had been here but already they could see the telltale signs that they had been through here. The destruction, the horror…L.A. looked better than this.

All around them, twisted metal nearly melted from the fires that had consumed them, chunks of concrete, and shards of glass littered the ground along the path that the fire tornado had chased them, leaving behind a deserted ghost town that looked even worse. Those buildings that were still standing were slowly crumbling, the life that human life had once given them decaying and rotting.

Hell, they had passed the twisted remains of the water tower a few miles back and that in and of itself was an ominous sign that things weren't going to be better.

Raising a hand up to scratch the back of his head in a boyish nature, Solo said, "Kinda overdid it didn't we?"

"Overkill," Duo agreed, nodding his head as he gazed upon the ruins. "It was cool when we were doing it but now…"

"Yeah," Solo nodded his head.

"Well, I'm tired of introspecting, let's get a move on!" Duo declared. "All we gotta do is find that spot you tried to die on and from there we'll get back to that base."

"I ain't running the whole way back," Solo grunted, crossing his arms. "No way, no how."

"Fine, we'll have to do it another way then," Duo huffed. "Don't think I can warp us there; Xavien has something blocking me from going there so the only way is the long way."

"So we'll walk," Solo groused. "Big deal."

"And how long will we walk?" Duo challenged. "You were running all night, didn't you? It could take twice as long to get there by walking and we'll be weakened by that."

"I don't see you comin' up with any bright ideas," Solo retorted.

"Key word being bright," Duo drawled. "I don't say stupid ones."

Solo frowned. "Hey, are you callin' me stupid?"

"Well, you do have blond hair," Duo noted mischievously.

Grabbing the braided one, Solo got him in a headlock and began administering a noogie to the head, his knuckle digging into Duo's skull. "Say 'uncle' ya brat!" he growled, oblivious to Duo's squirming as he sought to get loose.

"Let go!" Duo whined, hesitating to use his powers. It wasn't that he didn't want to hurt the blond, it was the fact that he knew Solo was holding back and not using all of his strength. If he had been, then there was quite the possibility that he could've rubbed his knuckle right into his brain.

The simple fact he wasn't using his powers was a deep sign of trust, on both of their parts.

However, their innocent moment would have to be interrupted in the form of a caravan of cars coming up from behind them and passing them both. It was almost surreal how the two long-haired boys watched dumbly as the vehicles slowed to a stop and surrounded them.

They continued to stare as darkly skinned men with large amounts of facial hair and dressed in vests and baggy pants emerged from the automobiles, wielding very big guns and eyeing them guardedly.

Solo summed up both of their thoughts when he next opened his mouth. "Who da fuck are these guys?"

It wasn't a second later that another car door opened with a voice following it. "These are the Maguanacs, my current personal bodyguards."

Duo frowned at the sound of the voice and Solo remained his usual ignorant self as a short haired blond came into view and my did he stick out like a sore thumb. These Mawgun-whatevers towered other this kid and had more hair on their faces that the kid did on his entire body. If it wasn't for the sharp look in his eyes, Solo guessed that he would've looked pretty good for a guy.

And this was a guy who claimed he wasn't gay speaking here.

The blue eyes lit up as they fell onto Duo and Solo did not like that look one bit. He had the sudden possessive urge to hide his friend as far away as he could and keep him safe…in a completely platonic way.

"We meet again Duo," the blond greeted, his eyes not leaving the braided one for a second.

Duo, however, wasn't that vocal in his reply. Instead, he was staring at the blond newcomer as if he hadn't seen him before or maybe he did since his face scrunched up like he was having a sense of déjà vu or something, Solo didn't know which.

"Hey," Duo finally spoke up. "You're that guy with the weird name…the one at…Nathan's house."

"You remembered me," the blond stated, a smile splitting his face nearly in half before shrinking into a smug smirk.

"Barely," Duo replied, "You're a pretty forgettable person."

The smugness was wiped from the blond's face in an instant to be replaced with a frown. "How hard is it to remember Quatre?"

"Cattra?" Solo repeated, blinking.

"What is it with you people and mispronouncing my name?!" Quatre growled, glaring at the other blond.

"Sorry, I don't know freaky-deaky African," Solo retorted, releasing the hold he had on Duo to cross his arms over his chest.

Quatre narrowed his eyes. "It's not African."

"Whatever, same difference," Solo snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Hardly," Quatre said dryly. Looking over to Duo now, he said, "What brings you all the way out here? I doubt you're on a pleasurable stroll."

"What's it to you?" Duo asked haughtily.

"Besides the fact that I happen to be on my way to visit Xavien?" Quatre stated. "I just happen to be minding my own business when I come across you two in the middle of nowhere. Forgive me if I decide to put two and two together but I don't think this is just a coincidence."

"How do you know? It could all just be one big coincidence," Duo challenged.

"I'm usually never wrong about these things," Quatre replied, a gleam in his eye. "Besides, what would two people be doing in a place like this anywhere? There's nothing to steal, most of the roads to this place are destroyed, and both of you are definitely not government so what else would that make you?"

"Don't push your luck," Solo growled. "We ain't got time ta be wastin' with ya so either can it and get out of da way or put up and shut up. Either way, I could care less what ya do."

"You certainly are direct," Quatre commented. "From the way you aren't intimidated by my Maguanacs, you wouldn't happen to be survivors of Project Maxwell like your friend?"

"Good guess," Solo growled.

"Way I see it, we both have a mutual enemy," Quatre said. "Why don't we join forces? We're both heading to the same place anyway so why give Xavien anything he could use against us? Not a bad idea, eh?"

"What makes you think you'd be a threat to Xavien?" Duo questioned. "He's more than likely surrounded by others from Project Maxwell and none of your guys would stand a chance against them. You're wasting your time and their lives, buddy. Why don't you mosey on home and let the big boys take care of this?"

"You sure about that?" Quatre inquired. It was easy to tell that he was hiding something and both the long haired teens watched him warily. They had a nasty habit of meeting people who kicked their asses around and they just happened to know stuff.

"What is it already!" Duo blurted out. Clearly, his patience had run out.

With a snap of his fingers one of the Maguanacs opened a car door and nearly dragged out the person within. Both of the teens' eyes widened but it wasn't their voices that spoke up.

"Jason? So you're still alive I see."

Whipping their heads about, the group of teens and burly men caught sight of an Asian individual with a blonde, female companion at his side.

"Hey, it's the Japanese guy!" Solo exclaimed.

"I'm Chinese," Wufei snapped back, glaring at the blond.

"Same difference," Solo shrugged.

"And who are you?" Quatre demanded. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting before."

"You're wasting your breath," a hassled looking Jason grumbled. "Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass's not gonna speak to you anyway. I bet he's more interested with Solo and his shadow over there. Hell, he's probably ignoring us right now."

Indeed he was. Wufei ignored both Quatre and Jason in favor of Solo and Duo, however, Solo was more focused on who had come with the Chinese youth and he wasn't happy about it.

"What da hell are you doing here?" Solo demanded, glaring at Dorothy. "Are ya my stalker or somethin'? Honestly!"

"She's my guide," Wufei interrupted. "I needed her to bring me to this town and now that I've met up with you, I believe there's no further use for her."

"I'm standing right here you know," Dorothy huffed right behind Wufei.

"Woman, are you still here?" Wufei asked, turning his head just enough so that he could look at her from the corner of his eye. "Your usefulness has come to an end. Go on back and get to safety. This is no place for the weak."

"Well excuse me, at least I'm not coughing up blood every ten minutes," Dorothy snapped back.

"Woman!" Wufei bellowed, glaring at the blonde.

A sharp gunshot fired into the air cut off whatever else the Chinese youth was about to say and the four teens snapped their attentions over towards Quatre who lowered down the pistol that he held.

"Glad I have your attention," the blond said dryly. "Don't mean to interrupt but I was here first and I do believe that I'm entitled to having my business finished up first."

"And?" Solo said. "That it?"

"Simple creature, isn't he?" Jason spoke up from behind Quatre. "Probably already forgotten about what you were talking about earlier too."

"Kinda," Solo agreed, a bit sheepish but not repentant.

"What precisely were you speaking about before?" Wufei asked, in blatant attempt in pacifying the blond whose face was slowly turning red, and no it wasn't from the heat either.

"I was discussing a partnership between me, my men, and them," Quatre half snarled, glaring Solo down.

"That's right," Solo said, eyebrows perking up. "Didn't we already say we don't care?"

"Yeah, that's what you said," Duo agreed. "Blondie over there thinks that he can take on Xavien and Project Maxwell with an army of bearded guys."

"Foolish," Wufei said agreeing with the other two youths. "You have no real stake in this and these men need not die mindlessly for some noble cause of yours. Go back to wherever you come from but leave Jason here. We have some unfinished business with him."

"Sorry, but Jason goes nowhere without me," Quatre growled, his Maguanacs drifting closer to him and taking the safeties off their guns.

Suddenly, one of the blond's cars was crushed by a large chunk of concrete, breaking the tense standoff and alerting all to the fact that they weren't alone.

A distance away, the redheaded, bulked-up Michael, the silent and apathetic Abaddon, and the pale, out-of-it Pike stood, Michael being the only one who expressed any kind of emotion. That emotion was smugness and mixed in with a hint of taunting riled up the group of escaped weapons and Winner employees.

"Done yet ladies? I hope we weren't interrupting anything," the redhead called out, smirking.

"It's that asshole again," Solo growled, his hackles already rising.

"I see Michael hasn't changed," Wufei commented, even as he pushed Dorothy behind him. "And he's brought Abaddon and Pike with him."

"You know these guys?" Quatre asked, his eyes not leaving the sight of the trio.

"You might want to retreat," Wufei advised. "This is something that is beyond you."

"It doesn't matter if he does or not," Abaddon spoke up. "He and all his Maguanacs are going to die here anyway, as well as you and those other two traitors."

"Now wait just a minute," Jason cut in. "I'm not here because I want to."

"It makes no difference," Abaddon stated. "The only one out of all of you who will survive will be 11085 and that's only because our creator still sees potential in him. Other than that, you will all die here and now."

"I don't think so," Solo growled as he stepped out in front of the others, cracking his knuckles. "If there's anybody who's dyin' today, it's gonna be you three. And Blondie's Village People."

If anything, that just earned Solo more enemies, especially since none of the Maguanacs liked being compared to the Village People of all groups and dismissed like they weren't even there. Their irritation and anger, however, only served to help out Michael who was reaping the benefits of it as his strength increased.

It also just so happened that Solo forgot about Michael's powers as well.

"You think you're tough stuff? Then prove it," Michael taunted, throwing his arms out. "Take your best shot, I dare ya!"

In a rapid blur, Solo launched himself at the redhead and slammed into him. The two went flying back deeper into the ruins of Boulder where they would have their rematch out of the sights of the others.

"Still as impulsive as usual," Wufei grumbled.

"Those two aren't our concerns now, Wufei," Duo replied. "We got two other guys right in front of us. I'll take the emo guy if you take the albino."

"That's not nice," Abaddon said. "I'm not 'emo.' That would imply that I care about something."

"I wasn't trying to be nice," Duo growled, taking hold of his powers, ready to spring them at a moment's notice.

"And I don't really care," Abaddon replied as a purplish aura encompassed him. There was something that wasn't right with this; if anything, Duo felt a chill shoot down his spine as the aura sunk into the ground.

Multitudes of decaying hands burst from the ground, the arms connected to them pulling out corpses after corpses of the deceased victims of Boulder emerged from their earthly graves. The stench of decay flooded the immediate vicinity and the smell was so bad that Duo had to relinquish his hold on his powers temporarily so that he could cover his nose and block his nostrils as best as he could.

"Great. Zombies," he grunted. Eying the motionless Pike, he said, "Mind helping me out with this one and letting the Village People handle the albino?"

"You can use the help," Wufei agreed as he blew away the zombies' repulsive stench with a wave of heat. "Alright, just don't slow me down."

"We'll see just who slows who down," Duo countered as he formed his time knives.

But before either of them could attack, the Maguanacs struck first, firing a barrage of bullets into the mass of zombies. While a few were ripped apart, the others held together and began to stagger towards the Arabian men. At least, that what a majority of them did.

Unlike the last time in which all the zombies Abaddon unleashed were slow chunks of meat, he brought forth a new breed this time, ones that were much quicker than their staggering counterparts. With inhuman reflexes, this new breed of zombie jumped over the growing crowd and attacked the Maguanacs face to face, biting down on any kind of flesh they could get their clawed fingers into and tearing their victims apart.

"Well," Duo blinked. "That's something new."

And then he had no time to make any quips as a few of these leapers descended on him.


	23. Zombies, Zombies, Zombies

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death

Zombies, Zombies, Zombies

Contrary to popular belief, Pike was not as oblivious to his current surroundings as many assumed. Truth of the matter was that he was just uninterested in it all.

However, he knew that if he wanted to go back to appreciating the beauty that was art, he was going to have to do something about this fight that was just starting out. It was really annoying what he had to put up with nowadays.

Eyeing the nearest zombie, he pierced its body with his marble-clawed fingers. The zombie itself froze up and slowly its decayed skin began to heal and harden. In no time at all, the zombie was less organic and more of a mineral quality, a moving, breathing statue that had once been a living human being.

"Kill."

That was the one word order Pike gave to it and it was an order that the new zombie statue obeyed. Moving less like a staggering body of flesh and more like the smooth, marble statues that Pike enjoyed bringing to life, the zombie statue marched its way towards the Maguanacs who were too busy fighting the everyday run-of-the-mill zombies to notice this latest addition until it was too late.

With a single swipe of its hand, the zombie statue cut an Arabian man in half, the man screaming in pain as his separate halves went flying away from the fight. Seeing an opportunity, Pike approached the dying half man and stuck his claws into the bloody torso. Like the zombie before, the man froze up and white splotches of marble appeared all over the man's skin. With this new convert complete, he gave his order and turned to the man's legs to do the same thing.

He was an artist, after all, and he could use anything as a medium.

Anything.

---

While most of Boulder was in broken down ruins, a few of the buildings remained standing, well as long as they hadn't been in the downtown area of course. It was through one of these still standing buildings that Solo and Michael crashed through, the force of Solo's body slamming Michael back first into the ground and skidding along it before coming to a stop.

Without mercy, the blond landed punch after punch into Michael's face as he straddled the redhead's waist, irrational anger overwhelming his mind and his only thought being to break this asshole's face in. Sure, Michael would move his head side to side and his punches would hit the ground but otherwise most of his blows were true.

Then Michael turned the tables and slammed both of his fists into the sides of Solo's head. This was enough to stun the blond and Michael took advantage of it as he grabbed him by his broad shoulders and threw himself upwards, headbutting him. Solo fell back but the pain caused by the headbutt was enough to bring him out of his stupor and roll away as Michael punched at him.

Scooping up a rock of concrete with a hand, he flung the manmade material at the redhead and struck a bull's-eye as it impacted Michael's chest. Michael fell back onto his back but immediately flipped himself back onto his feet not looking any worse for wear.

"Is that all you got, blondie?" he sneered. "You're losing your touch there."

"Talk all ya want now," Solo growled, "cause when I'm done with ya, you'll be drinking all your food for the rest of your freakin' life."

"Oh what? No epic death scene for me?" the redhead taunted. "You really are losing it, aren't you?"

Growling but not replying, Solo threw himself back at Michael and tackled him. However, the bulky redhead managed to remain standing and landed a jackhammer into the blond's back. Falling to his knees, Solo gritted his teeth as he wrapped his arms around the redhead's waist and threw himself backwards, suplexing the other and ramming his head into the dirt.

Letting go, Solo turned around and had to brace himself as Michael took his turn to tackle him, the blond's feet digging into the earth until the two of them broke into another crumbling building.

---

A slash here and another zombie collapsed into dust but Duo didn't stop to enjoy it as he reduced another zombie to dust. There were just so many and more were being added to the already army-sized group. At least they weren't being brought back into the fight after he was through with them but for those that fell because of Wufei or the bullets the Village People were firing, the zombies would just pick themselves back up and continue on the attack.

And in the midst of this, the braided one could see Abaddon watch apathetically, his body surrounded by that ominous purple aura.

Duo's glowing red eyes narrowed; it was obvious what needed to do done. As long as Abaddon was alive, then these zombies would keep coming and by numbers alone the living wouldn't be able to win.

Take out Abaddon and you take out the army. It was a simple concept but the problem remained how he was going to reach him.

Spinning around, he caught a leaper in the torso, his time knives digging in and reducing the zombie to dust. With another whirl, he surrounded himself in dust as he leveled a few more corpses with a slice.

Regaining his balance by taking a step back, he bumped into a warm surface but did not need to turn around to know just who it was. It had to be someone living and judging by the height of the person, it had to be Wufei who was already panting. He couldn't help but frown at that; last time he had seen the Chinese teen, he had been slow to tire out but then again he had been fighting Solo at the time…

Still it made no sense to him that someone as fit as Wufei was already having trouble breathing and he, Duo, had barely broke a sweat.

"You doing alright?" he called out, his back still pressing up against Wufei's.

"As best as can be expected under the circumstances," Wufei panted.

"Sure there's nothing wrong?" Duo questioned, eyeing the approaching zombies carefully.

"Nothing that I can't handle," Wufei managed to say. "We've more important things to handle than my health."

"Point," Duo acknowledged. "From the way it looks, we're going to have to take out the brains of this."

"Attack Abaddon," Wufei agreed. "You know where he is?"

"Bet your ass I do," Duo said. "Think you can handle this without me?"

"Who do you think you're talking to?" Wufei snorted. "The sooner you cut off the head of this snake, the sooner we can end this. Now go!"

"Aye, aye sir," Duo said sarcastically before warping away leaving Wufei all to his lonesome. Appearing right behind Abaddon, he took only a second to get his bearings and stab forth, hoping to get his unaware target…

…only for his unaware target to spin around and catch his knife with a long manifestation of the purple aura surrounding him, the shape the energy took resembling a scythe of all things.

Duo was both impressed and jealous of this.

"Man! How come you can make something cool like that and all I get are these lousy things?" he whined, gesturing first to Abaddon's scythe then to his time knives. Forget the fact that Abaddon had stopped his killing stroke, he wanted to get his hands on that energy scythe!

Abaddon raised an eyebrow, the closest thing to emotion that he had expressed all day. "You're not serious."

"Bet your ass I am," Duo replied, his envy clear in his eyes.

However, Abaddon wasn't much of a talker and the braided one was almost blindsided by the scythe that was aimed at his head. Reflexively, he tilted his head to a side and bent his knees to evade the slash and brought up his time knives to defend against the returning slash that Abaddon quickly maneuvered into.

It wasn't a mere second of his knives connecting to that scythe that Duo found himself relinquishing them and backing away hurriedly, shaking his trembling hands frantically.

He hadn't a clue to what had happened; one moment he was blocking an attack, the next his hands were withering and freezing up. It was like they had been aging too quickly but every second that passed, they recovered back to their wholesome selves. It was mind boggling; he thought only he was able to do something like that! This guy was stealing his shtick!

"What the hell is that?" he demanded.

"Death," Abaddon answered simply. Seeing Duo's stumped expression, he clarified, "To the layman, perhaps death energy. It's the very thing that gives life back to the dead and takes life away from the living. It exists all around us—"

"And you can control it," Duo interrupted.

"Not only that," Abaddon agreed, "but I can use it to see into the near future. "Yes, should you continue with this futile resistance, you will die. No ifs, no ands, no buts. Would you like me to tell you how you'll die?"

"No thanks," Duo said uneasily. This guy was seriously creeping him out but he could feel he was telling the truth. Sure, he might be able to manipulate time but even his powers had their limits. He could travel back through it if he concentrated hard enough and had a deathwish but he couldn't see into it. He had no idea of what happened in the past nor did he know of what the future portended.

Not hesitating like Duo was, Abaddon was already on the move, his aura now known as death energy seeping into the ground and raising two zombies. These newbies were different from the ones that Wufei and the Village People were fighting. Though decayed and burned, they looked…well, very fit for zombies, as if their bodies hadn't deteriorated. They looked strong and healthy but he could see the deadness in their eyes and know that they were in fact walking corpses.

Without a word from their summoner, they charged at him with unreal speed, as if they were still alive. Summoning his time knives again, he barely blocked in time as one slashed at him with elongated fingernails but was unable to withstand the tackle of the other that sent him and the zombie into the dirt.

A simple blast of frozen time was more than enough to remove their smelly presence but it took a second for Duo to scramble back up his feet, a precious second that also gave the zombies time to recover and rush him. In fact, they were almost upon him the instant he was back on his feet and to dodge, he flung himself up into the air with another blast of frozen time.

Landing on his feet, he didn't have much time to stick around as Abaddon swung his scythe at him, nearly getting him in the back. Taking the opportunity to warp away, he appeared right behind the zombies and was able to stab one in the back with a time knife, reducing it into dust immediately.

The next thing he knew, he was flying backwards as he was tackled again by the remaining zombie and he had to dispel his knives so that he could catch the zombie's mouth that was trying to bite off a chunk of his face. He was able to stop it but he wished that he hadn't have done that as the zombie's putrid breath smothered him and made him gag.

He rolled them around so that he was now on top and get some fresh air but his small triumph was short lived as he was grabbed from behind by another of these jock zombies, one created as he rolled about with the other on the ground. He felt air rushing all about him and then felt a wide spread pain flood his body as he smacked up against the ground. Being picked up again, he was thrown away to land near a pile of rubble and debris that littered the place.

It took him a minute to catch his breath and get back to his feet but it was an obvious sign that he was getting his ass kicked. It was times like these where he wished he had Solo's invulnerability; he wouldn't feel like he had gotten fit by a tractor trailer.

The two jock zombies were slowly approaching him, each step deliberate and calculated, like they were two felines about to pounce on a mouse. Behind them, Abaddon took his time closing in, his face apathetic as usual and his scythe in hand. Casting a look around, Duo's eyes lit up on a long metal bar, one that was almost as long as he was tall, and he snatched it up quickly, struggling a bit to get it out of the rubble that made the action a chore.

Holding the bar in front of him, he channeled his power into it and formed a long, sickle-like time blade, creating his own homemade scythe. Abaddon merely raised an eyebrow at this and Duo smirked wickedly back at him.

"You still want a piece of me? Come and get some!" he challenged.

---

Quatre was nearly flabbergasted at how easily his Maguanacs were being crushed. This small army of nearly forty burly, Arabian men who had time and again proven themselves to be a formidable force were being torn to shreds by a shambling army of zombies.

If this situation hadn't been nightmarish, he would have thought he was in a horror movie. Fortunately for him, he had put some distance between him and the action but did fire his gun off at any zombies that got close. Sure he attracted some attention but his shots were always sure and every time those walking corpses got close he would take them down.

Unfortunately, they wouldn't stay down long but they did seem to forget about him and go back towards the Maguanacs.

And all the while, Jason sat on the ruined pavement next to him with his back against the van, whistling a tune as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

Eyeing him in aggravation, he snapped, "We could use some help here! Use those powers of yours or something!"

"Why?" Jason shrugged. "It's not really my business."

"You know they're here to kill you too," Quatre said dubiously.

"And they won't get close," Jason replied. "Did it ever occur to you that this fight could have been over with a long time ago?"

"I see that," Quatre growled, "but what I don't see is you doing anything about it."

"None of my business if your Village People get their asses handed to them," Jason answered. "Plus I won't have to smell them anymore. Haven't they heard of deodorant before?"

Before Quatre could give a scathing retort, the van they hid behind shuddered and was lifted away from them. Both looking confused, the two of them stared at the odd zombie that looked more hard than its softer compatriots. Holding the van above them both, the zombie threw the vehicle down on top of them, or it would've if Jason hadn't caught it with a gust of wind. Propelled away, the van slammed into and crushed any zombies unfortunate to be in its way.

Meanwhile, Quatre fired a shot at the zombie but was surprised to see the bullet blast away only a chip. Like an automaton, the zombie marched towards them even as Quatre fired a whole clip at it with nothing to show for it.

"Useless," Jason muttered as he grabbed hold of the zombie with a hand comprised of air and wind. "You can't do anything, can you Blondie?" With a squeeze and increase of the wind's ferocity, he tore the zombie to pieces that were surprisingly hard as a rock, as if it had been carved and sculpted…

"Oh shit," Jason's eyes widened.

"How _DARE_ you?!" a voice thundered. Snapping their heads to a side, they saw the pale Pike glaring down at them in complete fury. "How _DARE_ you destroy such beautiful art?! You barbaric savages!"

"That was art?" Quatre whispered, not taking his eyes off Pike.

"He's an art freak," Jason whispered back in answer.

Surprisingly, that explained everything.

What it didn't explain was the arms that suddenly wrapped around their necks tightly and began to squeeze the life out of them.

---

When you were as indestructible as Solo was, you found that walls weren't as intimidating as they used to be. So being thrown into one wasn't that much of a deal and being thrown through one was a walk in the park.

However, Michael had held onto him when he slammed him through the nearest bare, concrete wall so that half of him was on one side and the other on the other side. With that, he began moving perpendicular to Solo's body, thus forcing the blond to crunch through the wall length wise. Besides putting pressure on his ribcage and wrecking his clothes even further, there was nothing much that Solo could comment on, even when he was pulled out and thrown back out onto the wrecked streets of the ghost town.

With an abundance of energy, he jumped right back onto his feet and popped his neck while he was at it, staring Michael down as he contemplated all the ways he could making the other suffer.

"That all ya got?" he challenged. "Sigmund did better than that! You're runnin' outta tricks man."

"Not really," Michael grinned savagely. "I'm just getting started."

"Then stop givin' me love taps," Solo retorted, reveling in the dark scowl he received. "Show me what'cha got," he added, making a "come hither" gesture with his hands.

And like that, Michael lunged at him but Solo simply stepped to a side at the last second and snatched a fist full of red hair as the redhead passed him. Michael's head jerked back and Solo took the opportunity to land a devastating punch right into Michael's back.

Twisting his waist, he pulled on Michael's hair and threw him high into the air before crouching down and ramming his hands into the ground, pulling a chunk of concrete and earth up. With ease, he threw his large projectile and grinned widely as it hit Michael dead on.

It was times like these, though, that he wished he had some kind of power that could allow him to shoot something, like fire or energy. That way, he'd be like one of those characters from some cartoon called Dragonball Z. Yeah, this would have been much cooler…

Seeing Michael plummet back down to Earth, Solo sped after his falling form, running through anything that happened to be in his way. Seeing Michael about to make impact, he jumped up high into the air and fell back down to land feet first on the redhead's chest.

He could feel bones giving way beneath him and he smirked as he jumped off and copied a flip he had seen Trowa do once before. Where was that guy anyway? Hadn't seen or thought of him in a long time; maybe Duo could answer that.

Pulling himself up, Michael hacked up a wad of blood and wrapped an arm around his torso as pain wracked his body. Damn it, he had taken a lot of damage. Seemed like Solo was still using his old strategy of overwhelming force. Well, it looked like he was going to have to show this piece of shit what he could really do…

It was a chore for him to stand back up and even when he eventually succeeded, his footing was unstable and he felt that he could just collapse at any moment. Solo was quick to pick this up and he threw a smirk at him.

"You don't look good. Gonna call it quits and go back to Xavien like a crybaby?" he taunted. "Hell, you look like you're gonna cry now!"

Instead of reacting, Michael instead smiled creepily. "You have no idea about the world of pain you're about to enter," he spoke with an eerie calmness. "Let me show you what true power is."

Solo frowned at this change in character. Something wasn't right here…

All about them, Michael could feel the hate that dripped off all the combatants but what really sent a shiver up his spine was the hatred that positively radiated off Abaddon's zombies. It was almost a rule that all dead beings hated the living and it was something that would be coming to his aid as he opened himself to it all and began absorbing it.

Around the redhead's body, a faint, dark red mist surrounded him and Solo frowned. Suddenly, Michael's body convulsed and tensed up, his body looking as if it was getting mass and…holy shit was he getting bigger? Goddamn it, he was!

Solo watched in fascination as Michael's body grew bigger and thicker as all the muscles in his body grew and his physical strength increased to massive levels. The already skintight uniform that the redhead was wearing strained and began to tear in places as it sought to accommodate the growing teen beneath it.

Beneath the muscle, the bones in Michael's body hardened and even those that had cracked or fractured from Solo's beating healed up all in the name of supporting Michael's massive body.

"What do you think now, bitch?" Michael laughed as an insane gleam flashed in his now dark red eyes.

"So you juiced up on some 'roids, big deal," Solo snorted. "I wonder if ya shrunk where it counts, dick."

Sneering, Michael cracked his knuckles. "You have three seconds to beg for mercy before I beat your face in."

"And that's how long you have before I rip your nutsack off like a paper towel," Solo replied aggressively as he took a defensive stance.

And then Michael charged.


	24. Scythes of a Feather

Author's Note: Updates should be more regular from this point on. However, I do have an appeal to make to all my readers. Once I finish Prodigy, I'm afraid I'm in the pits when it comes to more fics. I got nothing, no ideas, zip, zilch, nada. That's where you all come in. If you have any ideas for a story, don't hesitate to run it by me. I wouldn't normally do this, so please, can ya help a brother out? Without further ado, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death

Scythes of a Feather

Wielding a scythe was not something that was easy, as Duo found out. Sure, the first slash was easy but then the recovery time was a killer. He found this out the hard way, of course, by cutting one of Abaddon's jock zombies in half but then having to bring it up to catch the other one had been…well, it was a bit of a struggle.

To tell the truth, his first slash had had too much force in it, almost forcing him to spin around so when he tried to pull it back, the zombie was already upon him. He did, however, managed to pull the scythe back up just enough so that the bar was pressed into the zombie's chest but that didn't stop the horrible smell that its breath produced.

It was sickening, just plain sickening.

But then Abaddon had to come in from a side but Duo had been able to react fast enough to push the zombie in the way so that it bore the brunt of Abaddon's slash. Since it was already dead, it suffered no damage. That fact made Duo growl and lift his foot up to kick into its gut and force it away. Surprisingly, the zombie did stumble back but it left its hands still holding onto Duo's weapon, literally. The braided one, however, paid this no mind and ended the zombie's existence with a follow up slash.

He barely had time to twist the scythe back into position as Abaddon struck again.

"Good for a rookie," Abaddon commented, "but not enough for an expert." With that, he gave a twist with his wrist and the next thing Duo knew was that his makeshift scythe was spinning up into the sky, out of his hands.

And then he released a trump card; a blast of frozen time that forced Abaddon back and giving him enough time to reach out and catch his twirling blade. Going with the flow, he spun the scythe in his hands and leapt out at Abaddon, swinging the scythe in a downward slash.

The death wielder easily blocked the attack and spun his scythe to force Duo's back before making a slice of his own, one that Duo was able to block with the bladeless end of his scythe. His muscles burned with the unpracticed actions he was committing and from the fact that he was wielding a two-handed weapon in the first place. However, he could see the red blush of exertion on Abaddon's face and he knew that the other was unused to intense physical labor like he was.

They seemed to be on equal footing and from that alone, Duo knew that a stalemate was highly probable. However, he wasn't going to accept that just yet. All it would take would be one little mistake on Abaddon's end and this fight would be over.

As luck would have it, Duo was too much in his thoughts to pick up that there was something behind him until it was too late. Two newly created jock zombies grabbed him by his arms and one struck him in the back of the head. It wasn't some love tap and it was enough to put him in a daze, bright lights dancing in his vision.

"Always pay attention to your surroundings," Abaddon intoned as he readied his scythe. "You never know from what angle death shall swoop from."

And he swung his scythe at him.

---

It had taken Wufei a bit to figure out how best to go about fighting these dead caricatures but once he had gotten the hand of surrounding one of his fists in pure cold and the other in intense heat, it became too easy. A punch with his cold fist would free a corpse up and the other would shatter it into pieces, ensuring that it couldn't pick itself back together.

Occasionally, he would use blasts of varying degrees of temperature to take out multiple zombies at once but he found that that was more detrimental. While it took out more enemies, it also impacted his already failing health and after the third time he used the tactic, he found himself on his knees, coughing up blood. The zombies had pounced on him them and he had barely managed to fight his way out of the mob before he was torn to shreds.

When one of Quatre's vehicles came flying in and crushing those zombies that were in its way, he took the opportunity to escape the marauding crowd to rest a bit and catch his breath. It was not good the way he was panting as hard as he was; he hadn't gotten this winded when he had fought Solo. What had Samayaza done to him?

He felt rather than heard the approach of someone coming up from behind him but he made no move to react. He knew it wasn't one of those shambling corpses and the hesitant way the person approached him spoke volumes. If this person wanted to kill him, they would've done it by now. No, it had to be one of his allies, but who…

"Are you okay?" Dorothy asked worriedly, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder.

"Woman! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" he snapped, not looking at her. "It's dangerous out here! Do you want to get yourself killed?"

"Speak for yourself," Dorothy retorted. "You're in no condition to fight either."

"But I can still fight," Wufei replied. "You do not have the necessary abilities needed to help. Get out of here while you still can."

"And go where?" Dorothy snapped. "We're in the middle of nowhere and the nearest place is an hour's drive away! I'm screwed no matter what I do and if I have to die, then it'll be on my terms."

Wufei frowned at that but then he began to really think about it. Death…the greatest estrangement one can go through, the phase of life that everyone underwent… Maybe she did have a point; why not die on your own terms? If a woman can hold this determined view, then so can he.

Standing up, he shrugged her hand off his shoulder with uncharacteristic gentleness. Dorothy blinked at him, speaking, "What are you doing?"

"Doing something on my own terms," he said, a look of peace on his face. "If I don't make it through this, I want to thank you."

"You can't!" Dorothy exclaimed, aghast.

"I'm dying anyway," Wufei said bitterly. "Samayaza infected me with a lethal disease; even now my life is being slowly depleted. I will not accept that I will die like that, not as long as I can at least make sure that it will not be in vain."

"Wufei…" Dorothy whispered. "Don't…"

He didn't even stay to hear what she would say. He plunged forth into the mass of decaying dead people, opposite temperatures forming around his fists. Shattered remains of the zombies fell to the ground as Wufei attacked unmercifully. He could feel the strain on his diseased-ravaged body but he pushed it out of his mind with a thin smile.

With a vengeance, the mob turned on him but he was too graceful in his movements and was simply too quick for them to get a hold on him. Every move he had was calculated unconsciously to create the most damage with the minimal amount of energy necessary while devastating the enemy.

And devastated they were as he destroyed dozens of his foes with several one-two combination attacks followed by whirling around and creating a vortex that sucked them up and tore them to shreds.

Perhaps he shouldn't have done that last bit because he had barely come to a stop when he coughed up a mouthful of blood. He hadn't the time to wipe his mouth clean as he was under attack once more but he was more than capable of defending himself and turning the tables. He had no idea how many attacks he completed of the zombies he destroyed but he felt the effects of them soon enough as he reached the dredges of his body's might much sooner than he even had.

From the looks of things though, it didn't even look like he was making too much of an impact; for every zombie he defeated, another five would take its place. The numbers were incalculable and he could only wonder irritably why Duo hadn't succeeded in taking out the one controlling them all.

Irritably destroying another zombie, he scanned his surroundings as best as he could under the circumstances. He couldn't find either of them at first and he had to divert his attention back to the fight at hand but eventually, he caught sight of Duo being held by two zombies while Abaddon was starting to move in for the kill.

Damn that braided idiot! How'd he get into this position anyway? Looked liked he had to go in and save him before he got himself killed.

Putting his hands behind him, he blasted the alternating temperatures and propelled himself towards the other two, clearing the distance between them quickly.

And what happened next went too quickly for everyone

---

One minute, Duo had a clear view of Abaddon charging at him, his scythe coming in with lethal accuracy. The next minute, Wufei was blocking the way and his body shook as the scythe sliced into him.

Duo's eyes widened in shock. The Japanese…Chinese guy had taken the hit meant for him. But…why? Why!?

Abaddon raised an eyebrow. "I was wondering when you were going to arrive."

"Fuck you," Wufei spat as blood poured out of his mouth like a fountain. His skin shriveled up and the hair on his head began to fall off as Abaddon's scythe of death aged and killed him. Removing the scythe from Wufei's body, Duo watched as the dead man fell to the ground and crumpled to dust.

"It was inevitable," Abaddon spoke, prematurely killing Duo's shock. "He was going to take my attack for you and it would kill him. I saw it all long before it happened, before your blond friend attack my redheaded companion. You are not to die, yet, but should you continue with this, I can only guarantee your certain death."

"Can you see yours?" Duo whispered, an ominous calm coloring it.

"Excuse me?" Abaddon asked.

"I can," Duo continued as if he hadn't heard him. "And it will be horrible. Let me show you what this God of Death can do!"

Abaddon's eyes widened in surprise and he barely had enough time to form a shield of death energy to protect him from the explosion of time that Duo blasted out from his body. The zombies holding him didn't stand a chance as they were reduced to dust and Abaddon was flung away from the site, his feet leaving the ground. He almost fell onto his ass but managed to catch his balance before that happened.

Returning his attention back to Duo, he found the braided one a few mere feet in front of him and his homemade scythe was coming in for the killing blow.

---

Being strangled by half of a Maguanac wasn't a pleasurable experience, as Quatre found out the hard way. No, it sucked and it was made even worse by the fact that the Maguanac was now another of Pike's priceless collection. He also found this out the hard way; he tried biting the arm around his neck only to almost lose his teeth doing it.

"Aw hell no," Jason swore beside him and formed his patented wind blade to tear off the Maguanac's arm. "You're not going to get me that easily!"

"You monster," Pike hissed as he threw out his hand. Jason's eyes widened as he saw the altered snake heading his way but was quick to act and slice the thing into pieces with his blade.

"A little help here?" Quatre grunted as he continued to struggle with his former comrade.

Turning to look down at the blond, Jason replied, "You look like you're handling it fine."

"Bastard!" Quatre choked.

"Don't you have more important things to do other than call me names?" Jason asked.

Before Quatre could answer, Jason was struck from behind with vicious marble claws that cut through his clothes and dug into his skin, drawing blood. The pain brought back the reality that he was indeed in the middle of a battle, whether he wanted to be or not, and he instinctually let loose an encompassing wave of wind that flung his attacker off of him.

Whirling around, he glared at Pike who stared back him, his stance loose and his fingers dripping with blood. Compared to his usual apathy, Pike looked almost feral even though his eyes still held that spaced-out look that was commonly associated with him. Not only that, he looked different from the last time Jason had gotten a peek of him; he looked harder, as if he wasn't soft and jiggly like a real person and more like one of those marble sculptures that he was so enamored of.

Now that he thought in those terms, Jason could see that Pike was much paler than he had ever been and seemed completely unaffected by his previous defensive maneuver.

"What's wrong with you?" he inquired warily, readying himself for anything.

Surprisingly enough, Pike answered him. "Evolution," he said simply. "Like all art before me, it has changed to suit the tastes of those who create it. I am becoming art itself. Not even you are exempt; you will change just like I have and evolve into a higher being."

"What are you talking about?" Jason demanded. "Have you lost your mind?"

"You'll see," Pike declared. "The changes that have been made to us have not stopped, not by a long shot. Unlike you, I'm just ahead of the curve."

"Guess I'll have to be the one to put you out of your misery," Jason groused. "Solo and his patsies are doing such a good job at fighting…might as well show them how a real man does it."

"Man?" Pike picked up. "You're no man, Jason. No, you're my next project. You just haven't realized it yet."

He charged at the wind master, his claws bared and hungry for his flesh. Jason, however, remained put and only acted when Pike was just a few feet away from him. With a wave of his arm, he flung Pike to the side with a gust of wind, not even batting an eye as the pale boy slammed into one of the remaining vehicles.

"Pathetic," Jason spat.

Pike stood back onto his feet, not looking any worse for wear. There weren't any visible bruises or even blood anywhere. "As I said, I've evolved," Pike intoned, "and it will take more than that to harm me now."

"Like a statue now, are ya?" Jason stated. "I can dig it. Just means I'll have to work harder."

Without warning, he shot a blast of ripping wind at the other, Pike in response crossed his arms in front of his face and enduring the attack. The moment the attack was through, Pike flung his arms out and fell to his knees, stabbing his hands into the ground. Slowly standing up, two mounds of earth followed up after his hands, continuing to grow long after Pike had removed his hands from them.

The mounds began to morph and take on human characteristics, hardening until they were smooth yet durable. In essence, he had created two very tall, very thick, earthen statues that opened up very alive eyes with very intense aggression in them.

"When the fuck did you figure out how to do that?" Jason blurted out, raising an eyebrow.

Ignoring him, Pike sent his orders to the statues mentally and they obeyed automatically, charging at Jason with unpredicted speed. Jason immediately blocked the earthen fists thrown at him with his wind blades but these statues apparently had been imbued with fighting skills as he had to react quickly to block their secondary blows.

Well, this wasn't going to be as easy as he thought it would be…

---

Seeing as how Michael had gotten really big, it would stand to reason that he would be slower, right? Solo found out the hard way that that couldn't have been far from the truth. As well as becoming stronger, Michael had definitely gotten faster seeing how he had crossed the distance between them in less than a second and clotheslined him.

He was really becoming good friends with the ground by now so he wasn't completely irritated at this turn in events…but because this was Michael, he was pissed because of the principle. He always had that effect on him, it seemed.

He hadn't a chance to contemplate any of this, though, as massive fists began to pummel him into the ground, actually sinking him into it bit by bit. Sure, Michael had the strength behind them, but Solo had fought with a mindless Sigmund and after going through something like that, one's threshold for pain increased exponentially. Basically, he was used to such hits so they didn't hurt as much as they should've.

Michael soon paused but only to pick him up and punch him in the gut, sending him flying away to skid against the ground before coming to a stop. He took his time in picking himself up, joints popping as strain screamed to his body. He wiped away some spit from the corner of his mouth with a fist and he stared down the hulk across from him, taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly.

Michael slowly walked his way towards the blond, each footstep he made a stomp that shook the very ground. Watching the behemoth approach him, a smile formed on Solo's mouth, causing Michael to pause.

"Ya know, I should be pissed that you're beating da shit outta me," Solo spoke conversationally, "but for some reason, I'm beginning ta enjoy this."

"So what, you're a masochist now?" Michael sneered.

"Nah," Solo replied in the negative. "Nah, I think maybe it's 'cause I can let myself go for once."

"Huh?" Michael asked, confused.

"Yeah," Solo said, stretching the muscles in his body and flexing them. "Only other time was against Sigmund and that guy could take a hit. Like you. So I'm thinkin' that I can go all out with ya. It'll be a good challenge," he grinned, "and you can take anythin' I can dish out, right?"

"Of course!" Michael exclaimed defensively thought there was a hint of worry in his voice. There was something going on that didn't seem right here…

Popping his neck and cracking his neck, Solo balled his hands into fists and raised them up. "I hope you're ready for this," he said, "'cause this is really gonna hurt."

Solo bent his legs, flexing the muscles in them, and then vanished from sight only to show up practically side to side with Michael except with his fist embedded deeply into his stomach. One second, two then three passed with no movements whatsoever. The pause lengthened for a few more seconds before Michael shook and spat out a large clot of blood and spit. His massive body began trembling as an inexperienced wave of pain flooded his body and he found that he was practically paralyzed from it.

From beside him, an evil grin parted Solo's lips and his eyes radiated with unholy glee. "Hope you're ready," he spoke. "We're just getting' started."

And then the two move forth until they were covered in a cloud of debris and dust.


	25. Change is Inevitable

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death

Change is Inevitable

Duo found himself blasted away from Abaddon as death energy slammed into him and flung him backwards. He hit up against a wall harshly and bounced off it, landing on his feet but crumpling onto the ground as he couldn't hold himself up.

What the hell had happened? One minute ago, he was going in for the final blow and the next thing he knew, everything was going crazy. Hell, he had lost his grip on his homemade scythe in all the chaos and right now, he had a good feeling that he had gotten a concussion or something.

"Not bad," he heard as soft footsteps approached him. "No one has ever gotten that close before. I commend you for that."

Forcing his head up, he spat, "And that's suppose to make me feel better or something?"

"Not at all," Abaddon replied. "I was just complimenting you on your combat skills. It's not every day I get a good challenge."

"Good for you," Duo snarled. "Why don't you throw a parade while you're at it?"

"Such a bad attitude," Abaddon commented. "I guess that you'll be continuing to press this 'fight' of yours, won't you."

Duo didn't even dignify that with a response.

"I thought so," Abaddon continued. "You're death is near and once you die, it'll be your other comrades who will follow. Jason, your other blond friend, and last but not least, Solo, who will die on the end of my scythe. And yes, that will be the order in which they die."

"It ain't gonna happen pal," Duo spat, reforming his time knives.

Without warning, Abaddon struck, moving too quickly for Duo to keep track of him until he suddenly stopped. The tip of his scythe was less than an inch from his neck and he could feel the dark, cold dread that emanated from it. In that moment, he felt completely and utterly helpless, as if Abaddon wasn't screwing with his head but actually telling the truth…

"You see?" Abaddon spoke. "I could have ended this a long time ago.

That moment of uncertainty that held him captive ended as quickly as it began and Duo instinctively reacted by forming a wall of frozen time between him and Abaddon. He used it to push the other away but Abaddon began to slash through his paltry defense with ease.

With no other choice, Duo ran.

---

With a blast of unrelenting wind, Jason blew away Pike's statues away, sending them to crash into whatever happened to be in their way. Deciding not to toy around, Jason settled down to business real quickly, forming a ball of ripping wind between the palms of his hands and throwing the attack at Pike. The art freak didn't budge an inch from where he stood, and when Jason's attack came within his reach, he cut the ball in half with one of his clawed hands.

The now half-spherical orbs flew wildly through the air before detonating upon impact on the ground.

"Oh c'mon!" Jason whined. "How the hell did you do that?!"

"Evolution," Pike replied simply. "With every day that passes, my strength grows. You are no match for me, savage."

"We'll see about that," Jason hissed but had to drop off his attack as the earthen statues struck again. Bringing out a wind blade, he blocked a kick and twisted out of the way of another punch, ducking under a second one that was thrown at him and shoving the closest statue away.

The statues took off in opposite directions but Jason couldn't pay attention to that as Pike leapt at him like a jungle cat, his marble claws extended. Jason jumped to a side to dodge but had to duck again as a statue came up from behind and tried to hit him in the back of the head. Forming wind around one leg, he dropped and swung the leg in an arch to kick the statue's feet from underneath it, ignoring its attempts to regain its balance by shooting a blast of wind at Pike who easily tore the attack apart with his claws.

He didn't stop to swear at the maneuver but instead turned his attention back to the statue that was now behind him, the sculpted figure finally regaining its balance. Trading in his wind blades for a more compact wind "glove," a move that coated his hands in nothing but searing wind, he launched a barrage of punches that tore into the statue, taking pieces of it with every blow. The wind that covered his hands protected the appendages from getting much damage from the attack while causing more of it on the statue's torso.

The statue seemed to groan from the chunks of it that were missing and from behind the wind master, he could hear Pike release a high pitched shriek. Pushing the statue before him away with a blast of wind and into a pile of debris in which it broke against, he spun around to catch Pike's lunge.

The pale boy's face was a mask of fury and hatred and his eyes betrayed the fact that he wanted to rend Jason limb from limb. Despite increasing the ferocity of his wind gloves, not a scratch or even a sign of injury marred Pike's skin.

Then he received a blunt force against the side of his head and the grapple that he had held Pike in was broken, leaving him defenseless against Pike's wrath. It had seemed that he had forgotten about the second earthen statue and it had snuck up on him while he had been engaged with its master.

Now that he was wide open, Pike acted with phenomenal reflexes and speed, snatching Jason by his neck and letting his claws loose into his body, cutting through the clothes on his body and digging into the skin beneath. Immediately, blood began to stain his raggedy clothes but that would be the least of his worries.

Pike was merciless as he clawed at his face, tore up his legs, and when he didn't use his claws, pummeled his body with his fists. Pike wasn't physically strong to begin with and had never been, but due to his "evolution," his hands had hardened and become as unforgiving as his marble claws. Basically, every punch felt like a sledgehammer and when it wasn't Pike who was striking at him, it was his statue that picked up the slack, throwing him about here and there.

Not to say that he was taking this all laying down, mind you. He did get up to his knees and block a few strikes here and there but as soon as he blocked one of his assailants, the other would get him from behind, fucking double-teaming him.

But the creepiest part of it was the look that Pike was giving him. It looked like he was savoring each and every bit of pain inflicted on him and after one particularly hard punch, Jason fell onto his stomach, his control of the wind leaving him. Gasping for breath through pain wracked pants, he glared up at Pike who seemed to have called off the assault.

"Fucking sadist," he spat. "You…enjoying this?"

"I always enjoy creating a work of art," Pike replied, flexing his fingers.

"And beating me up…is art for you?" Jason demanded.

"Anything can be art," Pike said, his voice creepily soft. "It doesn't have to be marble sculptures or oil paintings; it can be anything from dance and athletics to torture…and war. Everyday life in and of itself is art, Jason. It's not my fault that you can appreciate such…beauty."

"Man are you fucked up," Jason said, looking at Pike in disgust. "This is art? Like hell it is!"

"Your ignorance is suffocating," Pike retorted, not in the least offended but tired of going through the motions. The time for talk and insults had passed long ago; it was time to put an end to this.

Noticing something behind Pike, he turned his full attention on the other, hoping that he hadn't given away anything. "You know what was…" he started but then passed, trying to find the right word to say.

"What was what?" Pike asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Inevitable!" Jason blurted out. "You know what was inevitable, do you?"

"What was?" Pike asked, giving him a queer look.

"When art was first started," Jason said, trying not to look behind Pike. "You know what came soon after?"

"What?" Pike demanded, his patience unusually short.

"The art critic," a cold voice that wasn't Jason's answered.

Eyes widening, Pike spun around only to face the barrel of a shotgun just a second before it blasted his head into pieces.

And like that, everything that Pike had created and imbued with his powers froze up and crumbled. That meant that the earthen statue that he had been tag teaming with broke down into the pile of dirt that it had started as. Meanwhile, blood and bits of brain littered Jason's body and he had to raise an arm to cover his face from getting any of it.

"You had to make a mess, didn't you?" he snapped, glaring up at his rescuer.

"Sorry, _Princess_," a dirtied Quatre snapped back, shotgun resting on his shoulder now. "Having to beat one of my own men to death with a tire iron was not the most enjoyable thing I've had to do today so you can take your prissiness and shove it up your ass! I still need you alive to lead me to where that bastard Xavien's hiding and I'll be damned if I let the only person who knows the way back die this early."

"And I thought you cared," Jason grumbled as he began to swipe the bits of Pike on him off.

---

It wasn't the first time Duo had run from a fight and he was sure it wouldn't be the last but that didn't mean that he wasn't ashamed of his actions. Sure he had done a similar actions when fighting the lightning twins…in the same Goddamn town…oh crap, there really was no excuse for this was there.

Unlike the twins who just chased after him, Abaddon was taking a more proactive role in stalling him, zombies erupting from the ground and each and every one of them with a hunger for his flesh. It was a good thing he hadn't dispelled his time knives; they came in handy when reducing those walking corpses to dust.

Yeah, it had been a scare when one had burst out of the ground in front of him but his gut reaction to chop it in half had been the one thing to save him. Actually pausing to see the horror that was coming out of the ground, he was able to get his primitive fight-or-flight reaction under control and get down to zombie exterminating business.

After the first couple failed to get at him, his confidence had been restored for a time. However, he did notice that the types of zombies were slowly changing from the stumbling sacks of bones to the agile leapers to the sturdy jocks. And from down the debris littered street, he saw Abaddon come into view, calmly strolling as he closed the distance between them.

To give himself some breathing room, he formed a barrier of time, one that was made of sped up time instead of the usual frozen. With it, he reduced all the surrounding zombies to dust and took his large opening to slip into a still standing building, one that had miraculously survive the destruction that had befallen the town the first time.

Surprisingly, the wooden floor had remained intact but each rushed footstep pressed on it caused the floor to groan unnecessarily loud. It was as if the floor would break right underneath him…

He was far from surprised when a jock zombie broke through the wooden floor in front of him but that was easily dealt with with a slice of his knife. As the body fell from sight beneath the floor, Duo whirled around and raised a barrier of frozen time just as a blast of death energy impacted it.

Peering into the ill-lit building, Abaddon caught sight of Duo's dark clad form and shot another blast of death energy. Instead of detonating against the barrier, the energy began to eat at it, slowly making a hole in it, forcing Duo to drop the shield and back further into the building.

"Retreating?" Abaddon said. "You know with every step you take you get closer to your death."

"Suck it, ass!" Duo snapped. "If I'm going to die already, just get it over with!"

"All in good time," Abaddon replied. "These things cannot be rushed."

"We'll see about that," Duo muttered to himself and he twisted his body to strike a zombie that had tried to ambush him from behind. His physical exertions were already taking their toll on him and he knew that he was going to have to put an end to this fight real soon. He didn't want to risk having Abaddon's predictions come true.

Abaddon suddenly stopped in his tracks and whipped his head to a side, frowning. Good, he was distracted! Duo tensed his legs and charged at the other, his knife ready to plunge into the other's body and end him for good. However, he didn't count on Abaddon already having a barrier set up so as he started to throw his arm out, he collided with it and was ricocheted backwards.

It was stupid to have assumed that Abaddon would have left himself defenseless, especially after all the close calls he had had lately. Thus, he was paying for it as his word became nothing but disorientation and he stumbled about, trying to regain his balance and failing miserable.

He had no idea of where exactly he was at this moment in time and everything just seemed to be _moving_ around so much that he failed to realized that he had stumbled into another room, one that had hard walls and tiled floor.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that he was in a bathroom.

Of course, he didn't figure this out immediately. No, it was after he hit his head against something, turned around on his unsteady feet from the unexpected blow, and fell onto his ass, his back sliding against the tiled wall. By now, things were just starting to right himself and he noticed the swinging mirror that had once been attached to the medicine cabinet was on the floor next to him. Seeing that a corner of it was severely cracked, he figured that he had run into the mirror and that had caused his ungraceful dance to end.

He was slowly coming out of his daze though it took him a minute to realize that a zombie had tromped into the bathroom after him and was within five feet of him, ready to strike. He caught it with a time knife and reduced it to dust before dropping his hand, both of his time knives fading away.

That was the position he was found in as Abaddon entered the small tiled room, his barrier still intact. However, he continued to frown as if something had happened not to his liking.

Cobalt blue eyes glanced up at him. "What now? Aren't you satisfied yet?" the braided one spat.

"It seems Pike has not kept up his end of the battle," Abaddon answered absentmindedly. "Both Jason and that blond are still alive. They shouldn't be."

"Wasn't it suppose to be me who died first?" Duo asked breathlessly.

The frown deepened for a moment before lightening. "Actually, you're right about that. However, Pike wasn't supposed to have died yet. He shouldn't have died at all."

"Looks like even you can be wrong," Duo panted, a hint of a grin curving the corners of his lips.

"But I'm right about you," Abaddon replied. "Yes, I saw you sitting right there, the same look you have right now on your face and…"

"What?" Duo demanded.

"…my scythe slicing into your chest," Abaddon finished. "And your hand was right there on that floral pattern, just like that. Yes, I saw it clear as day."

"Clear huh?" Duo spoke, a hint of a challenge in his voice. "Tell me something."

"I suppose the condemned should have a final question," Abaddon shrugged as he readied his scythe. "Speak now while you have the chance."

He was feeling a thrill in his blood, one of anticipation. At the moment he could see himself plunging his scythe into that traitor's body and it was just so intoxicating…

"Alright," Duo said as he pushed himself further up against the wall. "Since you can see my death so clearly…can you see yours?"

He had taken note of where one of Duo's hands were but he hadn't seen where the other had been. With a jerk of his arm, Duo pulled into sight a cracked mirror. As he stared at both Duo and the mirror, he could see his reflection and he could see—

Unable to take what he was seeing, his mind descended into chaos.

---

It had become quiet. Not the kind of tense quiet when you knew something horrible was about to happen but a calming kind of quiet, as if you had just done something stupid and dangerous but had come out without a scratch.

It had taken some time for Duo to realize this and the fact that Abaddon was no longer standing. As he sat up straighter, he could see that Abaddon had fallen into a pile with a dazed look on his face and a trail of drool escaping his mouth. Getting up and crawling over to the prone boy, Duo waved a hand in front of the boy's eyes.

No reaction.

There was no sentient life in Abaddon's eyes that Duo could see. This had been something he hadn't expected; the lights were on and nobody was home. Looks like Abaddon couldn't handle seeing his own death.

Duo only paused long enough to look at his hand then back at the catatonic in front of him.

"You know what," he started conversationally, "I'm not really in the mood. Guess you live to see another day, eh?" Getting to his feet, he patted Abaddon's shoulder with a companionate hand and walked away.

There were no zombies about to stop him either.

---

One second it had been hectic and noisy; the next second it was quiet and still. What had once been the town of Boulder was as silent as death itself, a ghost town once more as its former residence were no longer above ground trying to kill everything in sight.

Warily, Dorothy crept out of her hiding place, peering at the quiet surroundings, looking for any kind of movement that signified life. When none was forthcoming, she determined that the battle was over but the question remained on who was the victor. Just because all the zombies were out of commission didn't mean that it had been their side who had won.

The first sign of life that she found had been none other than Duo who was trudging down the broken streets looking as if he had fought with a meat grinder. He looked frayed and frazzled all over but he didn't seem very alert though. She supposed that he would be her best shot in finding out just what had happened thus she stood to her full height and began making her way towards him, creating as much noise as she possibly could so as not to startle him.

"You don't need to do all that," he drawled as he came within hearing range. "I could hear you coming a mile away, hell a deaf man could've heard you coming."

"I didn't want you to think I was sneaking up on you," she huffed. "You'd have killed me if I had tried."

"Not going to argue," Duo sighed. He let his body fall against her, Dorothy acting quickly to grab his suddenly boneless body.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked worriedly.

"Just fine where I am," Duo's muffled voice replied. It was only then that she realized that his face was planted on her breasts…

Rolling her eyes, she let go of him and let him drop to the ground in a heap much to his dissatisfaction. "I was just getting comfy too…" he complained.

"Drool on somebody else," she snapped, wrapping her arms around herself, specifically her chest. "I thought it was Solo who was the pervert."

"What, you miss him?" Duo asked cheekily.

Blushing red, she turned her face away.

"Having a nice chat?" the cynical tone of Quatre Winner spoke. "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything."

Eyeing the shotgun that the blond rested lazily on his shoulder, Duo retorted, "Nothing of importance. Surprised you're still around. Didn't look like your buddies did, though."

Stopping before the braided one and the blonde girl, Quatre pulled a scratched up Jason into view. "The loss of the Maguanacs was regrettable but what matters most right now is that Jason here is still alive."

Duo raised an eyebrow. "What happened to you? Get in a fight with a cat and lose?"

"Fuck you," Jason spat, glaring. "You look like hell yourself, ass."

"And I'm not arguing that," Duo replied. "I'm surprised you're still alive. Last I remember, we were both in that tornado and you were trying to kill me."

"Capture," Jason interrupted.

"Whatever," Duo shrugged. "I thought for sure that you were torn apart."

"I could say the same thing," Jason said, eyes narrowing.

"I'll be sure to rectify that when all this shit's over with," Duo stated.

"Threatening me now, brat?" Jason sneered.

"No, making a promise," Duo retorted. "You separated me from Solo. That's unforgivable."

"What are you, his bitch?" Jason snorted.

"Wanna say that again?" Duo growled, his eyes narrowing as he pushed himself up.

"Oh, are you going to turn me into a pile of dust or something?" Jason snarked. "You forget that you still need me? You can't put a finger on me yet, ass."

"Who said I can't?" Duo asked, an evil smile curling his lips. "I could just cut off an arm, or a leg. You don't need those to lead us back to that base. Hell, you don't even need your dangly bits between your legs. I bet you'll be much more cooperative without those…"

"You wouldn't," Jason paled.

"I don't know, I just might let him," Quatre added, putting his two cents in with an evil smile.

"Men," Dorothy snorted, rolling her eyes.

A loud booming sound interrupted the so very important conversation and all four turned their heads towards the source of the noise. Breaking through a crumbling wall, a very battered, very bruised, and very injured Michael landed with a splat a few feet away from them, his body covered in his own blood.

Not a second after, Solo came into view, landing feet first onto Michael's head and crushing it, splattering blood and brains all over the group. With the exception of Duo, all of them take a step away from the intense look of sadistic glee in the blond's glowing amber eyes and the fact that the blond looked as if he had been enjoying a day on the beach and not beating his opponent to death.

Out of the group, only Duo looked as if he was used to seeing Solo in such a state and was not perturbed in the least. He had seen worse, after all.

"You look like ya seen a ghost or something," Solo commented, his amber eyes fading back into their intense green.

"Ignore them, they're not used to you," Duo answered, ignoring a "Hey!" from Dorothy.

"Okay," the blond shrugged. Looking about, he asked, "Where's da Japanese guy?"

Dorothy automatically said, "He's Chinese."

"And he's dead," Duo added before Solo could reply with his usual "same difference."

"Huh," Solo grunted. "First we lose that China guy and now the one from Japan."

"Other way around, Solo," Duo corrected.

"Same difference," Solo waved the matter away. "We're losing Asians wherever we go. Now, who's that guy over there and why is Jason still here? Speak now before I pound them into da ground."

"Not very tactful, is he?" Quatre commented. "And I thought I already told you who I am and what I'm doing here."

"Sorry, but you're a pretty forgettable person," Solo said, scratching the back of his neck.

Quatre gritted his teeth for a moment before slowly calming down. "That doesn't matter. What does is that I hold the one key to finding Xavien's lair and I know everyone here wants it."

"I don't," Dorothy spoke up.

"Everyone here with a Y chromosome then," Quatre amended. "Look, we all here, except for her," here he stopped to give Dorothy a pointed look, "want to mangle Xavien and all those helping him. What I propose is that we join forces and work together to put an end to this. What say you?"

"It's all fine and dandy, but how do you 'propose' getting us all there?" Duo asked sarcastically. "Last we remember, it's a long way from here."

With a grin, Quatre motioned towards one of the remaining vehicles that hadn't received any damage from the previous battle. "Four wheel drive and it can accommodate all of us except for her. It'll get us where we need to go."

"He has a point," Solo finally spoke after a few minutes. "And it beats running."

"I don't know…" Duo trailed off.

"I have ice cold sodas," Quatre added.

Duo paused. "Bastard," he grumbled as he acquiesced.

"Great," Jason mumbled, unheard by anyone. "We're resorting to bribery now? This is not going to end well."


	26. Kiss Me

Author's Note: Still looking for ideas, people. Kibin Okami has been generous enough to offer one, a very good one to tell the truth but I'm also looking for other idea for future fics. KO, you've done good so just ignore this. The rest of you, well, **say something already**! Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language

Kiss Me

"Why Septum! What a surprise to—"

"Cut the crap Xavien," a disgruntled Septum interrupted. "We're in deep shit and you gotta help me get out of it."

A bit miffed that he had been cut off so rudely, Xavien narrowed his eyes as he stared the General down. "A problem? Assuming from what the media has been saying, I think 'deep shit' is a bit of an understatement, Septum."

"Look," Septum said. "It's only a matter of time until they connect you to me and when that happens, they'll be after your head as well."

"And the fault belongs all to you," Xavien retorted. "I gave you what you wanted and needed to take over yet here you are, back here with your tail between your legs. If anything, you should be on your knees, begging me for assistance. In fact, I see no reason why I should even be helping you at all."

"How dare you," Septum snarled. "Have you forgotten who you're talking to?!"

"Not a General, I can tell you that much," Xavien snorted. "All you are right now is a wanted fugitive and an annoying one at that. You know, I could probably turn you in right here and now and get some leniency from the new powers-that-be."

"You bastard!" Septum roared as he pulled out his gun. He was all ready to shoot and murder this asshole but a very sharp piece of ice slid in front of his neck, halting his actions.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Mordred spoke, a real frown on his face.

"As you can see, Septum, I hold all the cards here," Xavien said, sending an appreciative smile at Mordred. "Fortunately for you, I still see a use for you. That is the only reason why you are still alive."

Sweat beading on his brow, Septum's eyes snapped from side to side, looking at Mordred then to Xavien then back again. "What do you want from me?" he rasped.

"Take a seat first," Xavien gestured, "then we'll talk. Mordred, if you will?"

Slowly, the ice retracted from Septum's throat and the large man nearly collapsed into the nearest chair as Xavien watched from behind the safety of his desk.

"Very good," Xavien spoke. "Now, I want you to listen carefully to what I say and not interrupt me. If you refuse to comply, Mordred here will freeze all the liquids in your body and that my friend is not going to be a pleasant experience.

"Now, unlike many people in this world, I always come prepared with a backup plan. In fact, the plan I had developed was made long before you ever got involved with Project Maxwell but I put it on the back burner, just in case things didn't work out with you in Washington. As you know, Project Maxwell is a weapons program that was designed to create the next advance in weapon for a new era of wars. One of the trades I was involved with before XAI became a global economic powerhouse was the arms trade and all the contacts I made then I have retained over the years.

"You see, I was planning on selling one of the products of Project Maxwell to the highest bidder for whatever they wanted to do, be it start a war or hold a jihad, I could care less what they wanted. By merely using these weapons, others would want them and since I would be the only provider, everyone would come to me. Since even the United States government was one of my…'customers,' they would be the first and everything would go downhill from there. After a few years, I would then send out the order for all weapons to turn against their owners, thus rendering every military and militia force in the world helpless. From there I would step in and they would have no choice but to give me everything if they wanted to keep their lives.

"It was designed to be a major operation that would last for years. Every single weapon would be tested for loyalty, that is loyal to me since that would be the most crucial point. Without that loyalty, the plan would fall apart."

Septum stared at Xavien in horror. "You mean, you were already planning to…to take over? Before I ever got involved?"

"Precisely," Xavien acknowledged. "When you entered, you provided me a different kind of approach. With all the intelligence you had access to, I couldn't resist. Your ambitions also were another factor. I wouldn't even need to convince you to do anything; you would do it all on your own. However, now that you are out of power, your usefulness is now…how do you say, nonexistent?"

Brought back to the present, Septum's horror turned to terror, not for the unsuspecting fools aboveground but for himself. "What are you going to do to me?" he uttered, fearing the worst.

"The way I see it, you have two options," Xavien said. "Either you can agree to work for me and become my representative to all my potential buyers or you can refuse the position I'm offering you and die. It ultimately makes no difference to me which you choose but let me guarantee that should you choose the first, you will have a lot to gain. I might just give you control of Australia and Southeast Asia if you perform exceptional work out in the field."

Septum lifted his head up to look at Xavien. "What choice do I have than to work under you?" he grumbled. "I'll do it."

"Good man," Xavien smirked. "I believe that this is going to be the starting of a very good relationship between us."

"You said that ten years ago and look where I am," Septum nearly snarled but kept his tone down.

"Minor detail," Xavien said, waving the matter away much to Septum's anger. "In the meantime, there's another, more urgent matter to attend to. If you will follow me, my dear ex-General?"

---

"So what is it that's so urgent?" Spetum demanded, tired of walking aimlessly behind Xavien. He was in a sector of the underground facility that he had never been in before and was thus very lost.

"Patience, Septum," Xavien said. "You'll find out soon enough."

Deeper into the complex they traveled, Septum losing hold of his tenuous patience with every step that he took. Once again, Xavien was lording over him but this time there was nothing the General…ex-General could do about it. He would have to suffer under his new employer's superiority complex until he could gather enough wealth and find a niche for himself in the future world order.

It didn't mean he would have to like it, though.

Yes, it could be said that Septum had a problem with authority; if he wasn't the person in authority, he had a problem with it. He had spent half his adult life working his way up to the enviable position of General and in less than a couple weeks he had lost it all. He was nothing less than a glorified lackey now.

"Ah, here we are!" Xavien proclaimed as he punched in a numerical code in a nearby keypad. "Now, pay attention Septum; what you are about to witness is yet another of the fruits of Project Maxwell."

Having expected an unseen door to open, since this place was littered with them, the ex-General was surprised to see an entire section of the wall part and vanish from sight. Without a bit of concern, Xavien marched into the brightly lit room that had once been hidden. Septum remained standing where he was, at least he was until he was shoved from behind by a disgruntled Mordred.

"Well?" the weapon snapped. "Are you just going to stand there?"

Knowing that his ranking was beneath the ice master, Septum grumbled as he trudged forth, Mordred on his heels making sure he didn't do anything funny.

"Glad you could join us," Xavien said, not looking at Septum but at some strange metal structure. If Septum had to use a single word to describe it, he'd have to say it was a suit of some sort, something inspired from a sci-fi movie maybe.

"Some time ago, I was in possession of a weapon that had the ability to manipulate light. The possibilities and potential it held were phenomenal but there was one defect with it that just wouldn't go away."

"And that was?" Septum grumbled.

"Pacifism," Xavien answered bluntly. "It hated violence of any nature and preferred not fighting, even if its own 'life' was in danger. I had even commissioned the same teachers that had trained Mordred to try and correct this but all that resulted was that it could fight but refused to do so without provocation.

"In an effort to try and make up for this, the Alpha-Omega Mark I, fully automated mobile body suit here was created, utilizing some of the various methods that the defect used to harness the power of light and transform the energy into a weapon. All tests put to it have been successful to the point that even the weapons of Project Maxwell had trouble dealing with it in a simulated combat situation."

"If this thing is so great, why are you telling me about it now?" Septum growled, glaring at the businessman.

"Simple, you see before any of my plans can be put into effect, there is one little detail that threatens to prevent it," Xavien stated. "The malfunctioning 11085 and 12093 weapons are making their way here as we speak and there's no doubt in my mind what their intentions are. The interception team that was sent has failed; it is only a matter of time before they arrive."

"They're heading here?" Septum exclaimed. "Now?!"

"Yes," Xavien growled, not happy about the fact. "I don't know how they know that the base is here but they are and they'll arrive by nightfall tomorrow. It would be foolish to believe they will be dealt with easily. That's where you and the Alpha-Omega come in. I want you to pilot this suit and terminate them."

"What makes you think I won't turn on you?" Septum questioned.

"Because I have the self-destruct detonator," Xavien replied. "Get some rest, Septum. Tomorrow is the ending of one chapter in this story and the beginning of a new one, one in which I will be triumphant."

"What if I say no?" Septum growled, folding his arms over his chest. "What makes you think I just going to continue being _your_ lapdog?"

"Whatever gave you the idea you had a choice?" Xavien said. "Mordred, make sure our friend gets back to his quarters safely. I wouldn't want anything to…befall him."

"Yes Janus," Mordred said before motioning with his head for Septum to follow.

As for the ex-General, he found he really had no choice in the matter. His future was held in the palm of this lunatic's hand and there was nothing he could do about it.

---

For Noin, nothing could compare to the intensity of emotions she felt when the love of her life emerge from the damage D.C. Capital Building. Though he looked roughed up, it only added to his appeal as he stalked his way up to her and captured her lips in a hungry kiss that was graphic enough to be used in Hollywood.

When they had lost communication with Zechs' team, Noin had been near frantic with worry, her duties to Keppel being the only thing that kept her from going AWOL. But now that she was back in the arms of her lover, nothing else mattered.

At least nothing did until _someone_ interrupted by clearing their throat.

Breaking their kiss, they turned their heads to glare at an amused Keppel, a frazzled Lieutenant Une at his side looking at them exasperatedly.

"Sorry to break your moment up but there are some things that are needed to be addressed," Keppel said apologetically. "Septum's nowhere to be found; some reports claim that a helicopter was seen heading to the west in a hurry. The city is in ruin and some citizens are arming themselves while others are trying to claim some sort of position of power. Your assistance would be greatly appreciated."

Knowing Une as the two of them did, they expected the other officer to chastise them and add her two cents in. Both were a bit surprised when neither happened but their moment together was effectively gone.

It was time to get back to work.

---

After a change of clothes and some R and R, Zechs and Noin found themselves at the disaster area that was the Pentagon. Une had been there waiting for them to arrive, telling them that Keppel was awaiting their arrival to begin his briefing.

The fact that Keppel was regarding them with less of an attitude was a bit of a shocker but then again, they had been instrumental in freeing their capital from a would-be tyrant. That had to earn them some kind of respect at the least. However, there was something else that was on their minds and it concerned the presence of Une herself.

As they briskly walked down the blood stained hallways of the Pentagon, stopping at numerous checkpoints to identify their selves, Une told them her story.

Since Septum's initial takeover, she had been doing her appointed tasks, finding out any information that would be of used to Trieze. During the occupation, Trieze had suddenly taken a completely different turn in personality and had ordered her to stop. At the time she had been mainly curious about this change in policy but had obeyed nonetheless. As time passed, she began to notice that Trieze wasn't acting like himself, less regal and noble and more brash and arrogant.

So, she had turned her investigative abilities towards her superior and found out the horrible truth that the man whom she revered had been murdered and a double had taken his place. The revelation had been terrible and she had gone into hiding soon after, biding her time and waiting for an opportunity to contact the rebels from the city. However, this Trieze copy was no fool; all communication outside of those approved by Septum were monitored, virtually making the city a dead city in terms of incoming and outgoing communications. It had only been during the recent battle that she had come out of hiding to eliminate Septum's dangerous ally and only then it had been a struggle.

While understanding of her loss, as it was no secret that Une's adoration of Trieze was more than infatuation, the two could find nothing to say to the story, thus keeping quiet. They had all lost something, some more so than others, be it in innocence or something more. This was the legacy, the taint, that had been left.

The rest of their trek was made in silence, the three compatriots immersed in their own thoughts, be it sympathy for one who has lost so much, gratitude that one still had their significant other, or depression for those that had been lost.

These thoughts were left at the door, however, as each took on a business mindset. Keppel had been waiting to give them a private debriefing, something that wouldn't have happened a few days earlier. Apparently, the battle to retake Washington had been more costly than anticipated.

"Glad you could make it Lieutenants," Keppel greeted. "I've already spoke with the others but now I need to how a word with you alone. Reports have just come in that have confirmed Septum's escape. That helicopter that had been spotted earlier was fleeing west and has not made any stops according to other bases along the way."

"You believe Septum was in it?" Zechs asked.

"No doubt about it," Keppel stated. "As much as he thinks highly of himself, Septum has always been a coward at heart. Running back to Xavien with his tail between his legs shouldn't be that much of a surprise."

"Xavien?" Noin repeated. "What does XAI have to do with this?"

"You'd be surprised," Une spoke up. "Project Maxwell, the weapons program that Septum has been keeping under wraps, was contracted to XAI. Only Trieze knows how deep it actually goes but he did confirm to me that Xavien himself was involved."

"And Septum getting the balls to do what he did must have been influenced by Xavien in some form or fashion," Keppel finished. "I wouldn't be surprised if that bastard was behind the whole thing. I never had a good feeling around him."

"So Septum and Xavien were in league with each other to take over the United States?" Noin summed up.

"I've already ordered for Xavien to be taken into custody," Keppel admitted. "However, the man himself has also disappeared. If that's not a sign of guilt, I don't know what is."

"So what's our next move?" Zechs asked. "It seems credible that both of them would rendezvous in the same location. Perhaps we could track down where Septum's helicopter went and start searching for them there."

"My thoughts exactly," Keppel said, a smile growing on his face. "Little known military secret: a vehicle of military design and in use can be tracked down by their serial numbers and a GPS tracking system. It's actually one of the most overlooked secrets that should be known but isn't. Trainees are forced to learn it but soon forget about it after being tested on it. Xavien wouldn't know about it and Septum will not recall it in time to do something about it."

"And from there we will apprehend both or have an area to begin searching for them," Zechs finished, a smile reciprocating Keppel's. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to head up the search for our wayward general and his accomplice."

"Unfortunately, I need you here more than out there," Keppel said, smile fading. "Right now the federal government is in shambles and we're going to have to rebuild it from scratch, using the Constitution as a guideline of course. I need everybody and anybody I can trust to ensure no power hungry special interests can get their claws into this and unfortunately, the list of those that can be trusted is short. We lost more than was necessary taking back the capital thus I can only work with what I have."

"Meaning us three," Une said.

"Precisely," Keppel said. "I may not know you three very well but you have proven yourselves capable and trustworthy. You can better serve the country here than out there searching for traitors. We'll leave the search and capture operations to those on the West Coast in the meantime."

"So we'll be cooped up here," Zechs said, disappointed. He still owed Septum for the happenings in the Capital Building; he couldn't help but feel being robbed of this.

"Go get your rest while you can," Keppel advised as he shooed them away with a gesture. "Tomorrow is the beginning of a new chapter in history. We'll need you fresh and sharp if we are to restore power to the people."

Dismissed, the trio left, Une taking her leave as soon as they exited the room leaving Noin and Zechs to their lonesome.

Noin could already see the disgruntlement in Zechs' sharp eyes and she knew she was going to have to resign herself to a day (and night) of cheering her lover up.

The prospect of this gave her mixed feelings. Should she be put upon or be joyous? With such an ambiguous yet clear future ahead of her, she dragged her lover off to try and get him out of this latest funk.


	27. Back at the Beginning

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence

Back at the Beginning

The four wheel drive crashed through the rocky desert, bouncing up and down with every bump it ran over yet not losing control for a second.

Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the occupants. With the exception of Duo who was passed out next to a certain blond who was being extremely annoying right now, the other three of the passengers had their teeth clenched as they fought to control their tempers.

These passengers, of course, consisted up Quatre in the driver's seat, Jason in the passenger's seat acting as navigator and Dorothy who refused to be left in a ghost town that was populated by a boy who held the same amount of intelligence as a common shrub.

Dorothy, however, was beginning to think that being abandoned in Boulder would have been more preferable to…_this_.

"Are we there yet?" Solo asked, bored out of his mind.

"No," the other three conscious passengers answered, irritated with the blond's juvenile behavior.

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we there yet?"

"No!"

A pause. Solo looked as if he wasn't going to say anything, as if accepting that no, they weren't "there" yet.

Then…

"Are we there yet?"

"NO!" the other three shouted, Jason and Dorothy turning in their seats to glare at the blond while Quatre settled for using the rearview mirror.

"Goddamn it! What are you, a fucking child?!" Jason roared. "We get there when we fucking get there! God, I'll be so fucking happy when I can get the hell out of here!"

"Speak for yourself," Quatre growled. "If he could feel pain, I'd have shot him by now."

"Not my fault you're a slow driver," Solo shrugged. "I could run faster than this."

"Why don't you?" Dorothy glared at him.

"Don't feel like it," Solo replied, shifting in his seat to get comfortable. "'Sides, in here there's air conditionin'."

"You sound like a free loader!" Dorothy accused.

"Never said I wasn't," Solo retorted. "So…"

Raising an eyebrow as the blond trailed off, Dorothy asked, "So what?"

"Are we there yet?"

"Yes," Quatre spoke up before the inevitable "NO!" could be voiced.

Solo perked up. "Really?"

"No," Quatre said, shooting down the blond's hope. "Now shut up before I throw you out of the car!"

Throughout this entire debate, Duo remained asleep, not bothering to peer out of unconsciousness to see what was going on.

---

The sun's position overhead changed as it drifted from the middle of the sky to the horizon itself. Hours passed by slowly, much too slowly for those conscious in the van if you asked their opinions, and all the while Solo made a nuisance of himself.

At least he did until Duo woke up because of the others' shouting and put an end to the antics. What his exact words were will never be known but it did result in Solo pouting silently and the other three getting a much desire break.

For Quatre, it was more of a godsend, especially since he was the one driving and he needed all his concentration as he directed the van over the rocky terrain that had threatened to flip them on their sides many a time. Xavien had sure chosen a perfect spot to hide an illegal weapons program; he had to give him props there. It wasn't easy to navigate through the Arizonan desert, at least smoothly; the best way would probably have to be by air, probably how the man did most of his travel anyway.

Every once in a while, he would confirm that he was heading in the right direction from Jason but as they got closer, Solo began to pipe up (again? Noooooo….), saying that things were starting to look familiar. There could have been no other better news than that, in his opinion.

He was focused, he was in the game, he was going to avenge his father's death and put an end to this insanity once and for all. He took note of a helicopter passing overhead but took no heed of it. It was probably something commercial or military. Nothing of importance.

Then Jason spoke up. "Hey, why's that thing turning around?"

Glancing in one of the mirrors, Quatre raised an eyebrow as he saw the helicopter finish making a u-turn, getting right onto their tail.

"Oh crap, this again?" Solo whined. "Can't they come up with something better?"

"Huh?" Dorothy spoke up, looking at Solo quizzically.

"Stop the car and we'll deal with them," Solo said instead, looking straight at the back of Quatre's seat. "They probably know we're comin' anyway."

"Ever heard of the element of surprise?" Quatre snapped back. "Let's wait and see…oh shit!"

The reason for this expletive was the fact that helicopter had fired two missiles at them, the two projectiles closing in on them at an incredible rate.

"Relax," Jason drawled as he waved a hand lazily.

Outside the van, the wind blew harshly, taking hold of one of the missiles and directing it towards its fellow explosive, the missiles exploding as they crashed into one another. The sight was neat to behold but compared to some of the things the passengers in the van had seen, it wasn't entirely impressive.

"Is that's da best they can do?" Solo questioned. "They suck."

As if responding to the insult, the helicopter began firing bullets at them. The turret fire tore into the van, Dorothy ducking down as far as she was allowed while Quatre seemed to shrink, trying to avoid getting hit and driving simultaneously.

As for the other three, Jason copied the actions of the two normal people, ducking down and swearing up a storm. Duo remained calm, as if he wasn't bothered but the whole thing, only tilting his head to a side and avoiding a bullet to the head. Solo wasn't as lucky as his head jerked forward and slammed into the seat in front of him, a bullet sticking out of his head comically.

"You just had to same something, huh?" Duo deadpanned. Without looking behind them, he raised a wall of frozen time that caught the bullets as the helicopter continued to chase them. The aerial vehicle rammed into the invisible wall, exploding as it couldn't budge the wall.

"Making a big deal out of nothing," Duo muttered as he shifted in his seat.

Peering over their seats, Dorothy gaped at the sight of the fiery helicopter crashing onto the ground while Jason was impassive. Quatre didn't even bother to look having been shaken by the aircraft's detonation in midair.

Solo, meanwhile, raised his head back up and pulled the bullet out irritably, tossing it aside irritably. "Ya know, ya coulda done something about it earlier," he growled to his shorter partner. "We would've not gotten shot at like that, ass."

"Oh, like you were doing anything," Duo retorted, his eyes shut. "Last I recall, you were just sitting there like a brainless boob. You've been through out of speed automobiles before; why didn't _you_ jump out and attack that thing, huh?"

"Ya know, I hate it when ya use logic," Solo grumbled.

"Idiot," Jason muttered under his breath. "Has he no clue that he just said he was a moron?"

---

Xavien's different colored eyes glared balefully at his computer monitor, the machine in question frozen and unresponsive to his actions. It had been occurring more and more frequently over the past few days; it was almost as if nothing electrical would work in his presence anymore and instead malfunction if he got too close.

It had only gotten worse a few minutes ago; he had taken his youth serum and had been working on some documents when the computer froze up and refused to reboot. Those were some important things he was working on; he couldn't afford to let a little glitch ruin all his work!

"Fucking machine," he growled as he whapped his hand on top of it. "Why won't you work?!"

His temper finally snapping, he shoved the computer off his desk and watched in rage as the machine broke into pieces on the floor. However, it didn't do a thing to alleviate his fury at this silent form of rebellion. Pulling out his gun he fired a clip of bullets into it, heedless of the sparks that spat out of the useless hunk of plastic and hard drives.

A hiss cut into his moment of anger and his eyes snapped up at the sight of a trembling guard, the man saluting him and saying, "Sir, we have just got word that the rogue weapons are incoming. Estimated time to arrival is in an hour, two at the most."

Pushing back into his chair, the one thing that hadn't rebelled against him, Xavien thought about this new information despite the fact that none of his anger had left him. Unable to think about it for long, he began to speak out loud.

"They'll be here by evening, eh?" he said. "Mustn't let them feel unwanted; we'll have to get the other weapons ready to confront them."

"What about you?" the guard asked. He could hear the fear in the man's voice, a stark contrast to the late Malkov's emotionless deadpan.

"I'll stay," Xavien finally stated. "They're coming for me, are they not? Well, they will have me then along with the rest of Project Maxwell's might. It's time I put an end to this loose end personally and permanently. Go inform the others that we'll be having company soon. It's rude not to greet a guest, especially uninvited ones."

---

The sun was nearing the horizon when they came across the large concrete helicopter pad that sat unused in the middle of this barren wasteland. It was a good thing too, Quatre thought. They were running out of gas…

"Oh yeah, this is familiar," Solo said, confirming Quatre's suspicions as he got out of the van, Duo following after with a frown on his face. The braided one looked as if he was having a sense of déjà vu but yet couldn't grasp just exactly how.

"Well, this is it," Jason announced, not getting out of the van. "Here you go. I've done my good deed for the day."

Quatre frowned at the wind wielder. "You're not coming with us?"

"Hell no," Jason snorted. "I only agreed to showing you where this place was, not go in it and get my ass killed, thank you very much!"

"Where is it?" Dorothy asked, looking around. "I don't see anything but that pad right there."

"It's underground," Solo said contemptuously, giving the blonde a look. "Jeez, talk about a blonde moment," he muttered.

In response, Duo gave him a look that clearly said, _Oh? And you're one to talk?_

Solo was oblivious to it.

There was a click as Quatre loaded up a pistol, pumping the chamber and taking the safety off before doing the same with a second one. "It doesn't matter where it is," he said, holstering the firearms on him and taking up his borrowed shotgun, loading the stronger gun with shells. "It's time to pay those bastards back for everything they've done." _To me_, he silently added. He hadn't forgotten about his father or the deaths of his loyal Vil—er, Maguanacs. An eye for an eye and a life for a life was called for and thus far his count was at forty-one.

A lot of people were going to die…

"I guess we ought to get going then," Dorothy sighed as she began walking forward.

Quatre looked up at her sharply, a frown etched on his face. "What do you think you're doing?"

Dorothy gave him a queer look. "I'm going in with you guys."

"Not an option," Quatre said. "You'll just get in our way and get yourself, and maybe us, killed. You're going to stay right here and wait for us to get back."

Now Dorothy was peeved. "What gives you the right to go?" she seethed. "I have as much to go as you do!"

"No you don't," Quatre replied briskly. "You can't use a gun. You'll be nothing but dead weight. Stay here like a good little girl and stay out of something that you have no business with."

As the two continued to argue, both Solo and Duo watched with bored expressions. Both were getting antsy and both wanted to get the show on the road. At the rate things were going, they were going to be here all day and who knew how long the assholes beneath them, literally, would wait before coming at them?

Duo glanced at Solo and said, "Ditch 'um or stop 'um? What's your call?"

Solo growled irritably before snapping at the arguing pair, "Either shut up or get a room and fuck each other. I don't care which but we're wastin' daylight here. If she wants ta come so badly, let her but know I'm not gonna be savin' her ass in there if she gets in ta trouble. And you, Blondie, stop being a prissy bitch and get your ass over here, now. Me an' Duo are going over there right now and we ain't waiting for ya ta fall in love or whatever."

"Nicely put," Duo commented.

"Thanks," Solo said, turning around and starting his march towards the helicopter pad. He cracked his knuckles, prepared for a brawl and thirsty for some brain bashing. It was more than time for some sweet, sweet revenge.

Duo was following right behind him, his hands shoved into his pockets. His cobalt blue eyes were already fading into their aggressive crimson color as his body filled with anticipation. He was going to show that asshole that he was human alright. He'd carve it into Xavien's chest if he had to.

Meanwhile, Jason had busted into laughter at the blushing blonds who were staring at the other two's backs. Those two did sound like some old married couple. It was hilarious! Man, this made this whole trip worth it!

Quatre, on the other hand, was far from amused but he did have to admit that Solo did have a point, albeit grudgingly. They were wasting time and every minute wasted was another XAI had to prepare for them. Like hell he would hand over the advantage to them this early in the game, no way. Without a second look at Dorothy, he hurried after the other two, not wanting to get left behind.

As for Dorothy, she was still caught up by Solo's verbal lashing but she was starting to recover, her first thoughts being, _Who the hell does he think he is that he can get away with saying that shit!_

Oh no, no way, no how, she had come this far and she wasn't about to be left behind, again. Once was enough for her plus she wanted to see this thing come to its end. She wanted to see her family, her friends, her fellow townsfolk avenged and if there was no other way, she would do it herself.

Without another word she stomped off after the troupe.

Jason, meanwhile, snorted. "Idiots," he muttered as he sat back into his seat.

---

"Okay, now where was it again?" Solo muttered as he eyed the outcroppings of rocks around them. "I know it's somewhere around here."

"Wasn't it over here?" Duo mumbled peering at some rocks critically. Looking behind himself to compare the landscape with his fuzzy memory, he turned his head back to the rocks, trying to do his best to find their entrance.

"This is getting old," Solo growled. "Let's just make a hole in the ground and use that. Don't trust elevators anymore thanks ta them."

"If there's one thing that hasn't changed, it's your lack of tact," Duo replied, raising his voice.

"Do ya even think they got that thing fixed?" Solo continued, gesturing wildly with an arm.

"Who knows?" Duo shrugged. "And even if they haven't it's the quickest, and easiest, way down. Oh, what have we here?"

He had barely finished his sentence as the face of one particular rock began to part, revealing the chamber of an elevator. The two could only blink stupidly at it; it looked as if nothing had changed at all and was the same one they had ridden up when they first escaped. Weird…

"We're going down, I see," Quatre piped up from behind. "And they're being so gracious to let us in. Shouldn't disappoint them."

Solo cracked a grin. "Now you're speakin' my language, Quatre. Let's give 'um hell!"

"That's the first time any of you have called me by my name," Quatre commented.

"Don't get used ta it," Solo replied. "Let's boogie!"

Duo gave the blond another look. "Lame."


	28. Home Sweet Home

Author's Note: The action continues and the massacre truly begins. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death

Home Sweet Home

If there was one constant in this crazy world, it would be elevators had annoying music, no matter where they were located. Duo was sure that if Xavien wanted to drive them nuts before they reached the main complex, he couldn't have chosen a more torturous method than this one. Already he was becoming aggressive and combine with the small space they were in, it would be inevitable that they would tear each other apart.

Suffice to say, it was working well, too well maybe…

Maybe he was alone in this, though, as Solo and the other two didn't seem to be affected. Were they ignoring it? What were they doing? He must know!

Their descent came to a slow stop but just before it came to a full stop and that annoying "Bing!" sound was uttered, Solo stepped in front of them. "I'll go first," he said. "They might try something."

No sooner had he said that that the doors opened to reveal the hallway beyond full of armed men who immediately began to fire a huge barrage of bullets at them. Since Solo, being Solo, took up so much space, not many bullets got around him thus his body took the full brunt of the expected attack.

As the men ran out and had to reload, Duo stole a peek at Solo's front, raising an eyebrow as he saw the blond's entire front was covered with bullets. One twitch in his body made every single one of the small projectiles fall off and onto the floor. Solo meanwhile blinked as if the artificial lighting from the ceiling had blinded him and he commented, "Wasn't that interesting?"

In the blink of an eye, the blond was gone having launched himself at the rearmed men and dishing out his special bone crushing blows. Hearing the screams of pain and the bits of blood that flew everywhere, Duo didn't seem affected by any of it as he formed a time knife on one hand before walking out of the elevator casually.

Clouds of dust soon joined the blood in the air.

---

Back in the elevator, Quatre had pressed himself against the wall, an arm stretched out to hold Dorothy back as well. He didn't know why he had done that, especially after he had said he wasn't going to be keeping an eye on her, but it had been instinctual.

He'd save this one time, he told himself. After that she was on her own.

The sounds of the fight outside were starting to dwindle down and it was only then that Quatre took the risk of poking his head out. Bodies of unconscious, dead, and even those unlucky to be unconscious but still in extreme amounts of pain littered the floor and always. A fine layer of dust was started to settle and pools of blood stained everything they came into contact with. In the middle of it all stood the two long haired weapons who showed no signs of being affected by any of it, not even the physical exertion.

All in all, he wasn't surprised at it.

He surveyed the scene as he stepped out of the elevator, not in the least affected by the scene he found himself in. In fact, he found that it was an effort to feel anything at all about these men. Whether that was something to be worried about, he didn't know but he would think about it after this was all over.

"Think you could have been messier?" he asked. "I think there's some wall around here that doesn't have blood or a body attached to it."

"Hey, you can't have everything," Solo shrugged. Looking down at Duo, he asked, "Now what?"

"Guess we look around the destroy anything that comes into sight," Duo replied. "It's the best I can think up of."

"Yeah right," Solo rolled his eyes. "You can do that. I'm gonna go find something to smash, hopefully that Xavien guy. I'll check back with ya later." With that, the blond spun on his heels and jogged down one of the high ceiling hallways. He had just turned a corner when the sounds of gunfire erupted.

"Looks like he's busy," Duo said to himself. Glancing at Quatre, he said, "Coming?" before turning away and heading in the opposite direction.

Watching the braided one walk away, Quatre tightened his grip on his shotgun, his eyes hardening. He had forty-one people to kill and he doubted he would be able to accomplish that if he followed Solo. Also, it probably wouldn't be wise to walk around this place without having one of the two survivors of Project Maxwell at his side. Guess he would have to tag along for now.

As he hurried after Duo, he paid no mind to Dorothy who finally took her first step out of the elevator and muttered to herself, "I've followed Rambo and the Terminator. Great."

---

Duo could have cared less about whether or not Quatre followed after him like a lost puppy. He could have cared a little more that Dorothy was also tagging along but that was more like irritation that he had wound up with babysitting duty. Why couldn't they have gone after Solo like all the other suicidal morons? Honestly!

Oh well, they weren't his problem, now were they? He'd ignore them and if they got in his way, well so be it. He had more important things to do than worry about their safety.

Oh look, they had more company. More guards were coming at them, holding an assortment of guns and tasers that they fired haphazardly. A barrier of frozen time put an end to that pesky problem easily enough and with a twitch of his fingers, he threw the wall at the men. With no way to get out of the way, the guards were bowled into by the wall and pushed back until they smashed up against a physical wall and became nothing more than a mess of crushed bones and bodily fluids.

Nice.

By now Quatre was right beside him and the blond's frown didn't escape his attention. He was probably irritated for some reason, maybe it was his time of the month or something? Whatever, Quatre was the least of his concerns. There were bigger fish to fry like that second group of guards who had just rounded the corner.

Quatre acted first this time as he fired a shotgun shell and felled the two foremost in the new group immediately. Duo formed yet another wall of frozen time but instead of blasting it ahead like last time, he took his time pushing it forward as he strolled towards this new group, Quatre ceasing his shooting as he realized that his gunfire wasn't getting through the wall.

"Duo!" Quatre growled irritably.

"Oh what? You want it down?" Duo asked. "Here then."

He only shrank the wall a bit so that the blond was exposed and he wasn't but the moment the enemy bullets began whizzing by Quatre's head, the blond was taking cover behind the braided one, shooting a glare at him as the wall took up the whole corridor again.

"What?" Duo asked, raising an eyebrow. "You wanted the barrier out of the way."

"You're impossible," Quatre retorted.

"So I've been told," Duo replied wryly as he changed the composition of his wall from frozen time to sped-up time and blasted it forth. The guards burst into dust as they came into contact with it and soon the hallway was clear.

"Not here for a walk," Duo continued. "Either keep up or get lost. I don't care which you do."

---

Having to stand far away from the monitors, Xavien watched with keen interest as his malfunctioning weapons were making mincemeat out of his employees. The sight of all the blood and pain was arousing him like nothing else but he managed to keep his mind out of the gutter through sheer force of will alone.

Still, he would record all this so he could review in later…in privacy…

He wasn't surprised that 11085 and 12093 were dominating thus far; they had been created specifically for warfare after all. Still, he couldn't make things too easy for them.

Nodding towards a nearby guard, he signaled for the man to give out his orders to Septum and the others. It was time to put these weapons to the test and see if there was anything that could be salvaged from them…

---

Ah, he loved the sound of bones being crushed to dust. That and the feeling of said bones giving in under the force of his superstrength was also something he wasn't going to be getting tired of anytime soon. Yeah, dishing out retribution on these assholes who had snatched him from the streets and made him a test animal was so very sweet.

Taking two guys by their heads, he smashed their skulls together violently and reveled in the feeling of the craniums giving way as they were crushed. Dropping the corpses, he spun on his heel and imitated a high kick, his leg connecting with an unlucky soul and slamming him against the wall. His leg unyielding, he actually cut the man in half, his blood splattering out to join the river of it that covered the floor.

Needless to say, he was covered in the stuff and could have cared less about it.

What was this now? Seemed like these guys weren't getting the hint to run for their lives; a new group of suckers had arrived but each and every one of them were holding tasers, the same kind they used to take him down back when he had been imprisoned in this place. Sure he may have toughed up since the last time but he was in no mood to get electrocuted anytime soon.

So kicking up a body from the floor, he used it as a literal human shield that caught all the electrodes fired at him. He didn't wait long to through his shield at the men, giving him the opportunity to rush the guards, clotheslining the first two and massacring the rest with punches that sent heads rolling and crushed ribcages.

In fact, he stepped on one of the heads as he turned the corner and ran into yet another group of men who blinked at him in surprise. With a blood thirsty grin, Solo tore off the foreman's arm and used it as a club to bash the others in, blood splattering everywhere. By the time he was done with this group, the arm he was holding was falling apart.

Tossing it aside, he pressed forward, taking random turns here and there in the hopes of butchering another group of armed assholes. Alas, that wasn't the case as he was disappointed time and again. Hell, a much larger hallway didn't have a single person for him to slaughter despite having an entire wall made of windows.

To tell the truth, he would have ignored the windows altogether except that something about them caught his eye and he slowed his rampage down long enough to peer through them. At first he saw nothing and was beginning to think that looking through the things was a waste of time…until he looked down of course.

He remembered that place! It was the Commons! Damn, it sure looked different from way up here—

The next thing he knew, he was crashing through the windows and into the large, table filled room as something struck him from behind. He fell for a few seconds before landing on a table and breaking right through it. He must be getting fat or something; that's never happened to him before…

Pushing himself out of the wreckage, the first thing that caught his attention was someone on the other side of the large room who was giving him a vicious look. Dressed as all the other guys sent after them, Solo couldn't quite recall who this guy was but the name Bart (or was it Bret? Beethoven? Eh, he must not be that important) kept popping up in his head. The fact that he had two wicked looking knives sticking out of the cuffs of his sleeves was a bit worrying but Solo wasn't scared that easily.

Getting to his feet, he made a "come hither" gesture with his hands and said tauntingly, "You just gonna stand there and look pretty or are ya gonna fight?"

The other's dark blue eyes narrowed yet lost none of the bloodthirstiness in them and he lunged at the blond, slicing at him with his knives.

Solo merely rolled his eyes and raised an arm up.

Much to the other boy's surprise, when the first of his knives connected, it broke in half instead of cutting into the blond's skin thus enabling him to take control of his blood. He looked at his broken blade for a second before looking up at Solo who threw him a grin.

Lightning quick, Solo grabbed the boy by his head and twisted, stopping only when the other's head was literally on backwards. With a finger, Solo pushed the other's shoulder and watched with satisfaction as the body fell backwards onto the floor.

Then he spun around and blocked an incoming fist with his lower arm, his eyes narrowing at an identical lookalike of himself. Pushing the newcomer away and leaping backwards to put some space with them, Solo glared at his double and sneered.

"That you Copy Chris? Looks like ya haven't changed one bit."

His double, or Copy Chris as he was known, looked back at Solo with an amused smile. "Well, at least we know you've gotten better. Perhaps it's time we find out just who is the real McCoy and deserves this perfect form."

"Can't ya be original for once?" Solo retorted, annoyed. "And can ya change your looks while you're at it? It's creepy."

"C'mon Solo!" Chris said pleadingly. "Ya know I've always admired you! This is the highest compliment I could give anyone! Why couldn't you've liked me instead of that schizo?"

"You talkin' 'bout Duo?" Solo's eyes narrowed. "Well, he didn't annoy me like you're doin'. I think that counts for something, hmm?"

"Guess I'll have to show you what I can really do," Copy Chris whispered. "Then you'll have to accept me. Just like you always should've!" he finished, his voice rising with every word until he was shouting.

Solo shook his head as he muttered to himself, "Freaky stalker." Without another word, he charged at Chris, ready to pound him into the ground via his fists.

---

After you've been in a few fights to the death, you'd develop a sixth sense, the kind that allowed you to dodge or catch a potentially lethal attack or blow and depending on what type it was send it back.

Duo prided himself in having a rudimentary form of it and so when his "spidey senses" went off, he blasted a wall of frozen time behind him to push his two following puppies back while simultaneously leaping forward to avoid a blast that felt almost like electricity as it passed him. The blast itself detonated against the wall but it made no mark on it other than a singe.

Jerking his head to a side, Duo found his eyes widening as a large metal megalith approach him. It easily looked like it weighed twenty tons with large thick barrel shaped legs, thin wiry arms that ended with two cannon like extensions that glowed with a bright light, and a skeleton of metal bars that opened up in the center to show a hard faced man with black hair and a small moustache. Over his left eye rested a green glass covered aiming device, one obviously built into the strange machine.

The man was only visible from his upper torso and shoulders to his head and man, Duo had to admit that this man was ugly. Not the ugliest he had seen, mind you, but ugly nonetheless. Those small eyes with the insane gleam in them did not help to make him look pretty; hmm, maybe he could give him some beauty tips?

"Septum!" Quatre gasped out in surprise. "What—how?!"

The man called Septum lazily glanced at Quatre but paid him no further mind as his gaze fell over Duo. "I remember you," he said with his gruff yet nasally voice. "You're the one that Xavien is obsessed over. You were suppose to be near completion, if I recall correctly and all you needed to do was kill that friend of yours. Guess like even that asshole makes mistakes."

"You callin' me a mistake?" Duo growled. "At least I don't look like I fell off the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down."

"Watch your mouth boy," Septum snapped, all humor in him gone in a flash. "It was suppose to be you who helped me conquer Washington. I've lost everything except my life and I can't get back at those who are responsible right now. I guess you'll have to do for now."

"Okay," Duo said before address their audience without taking his eyes off Septum. "You two get out of here. The adults need to have a talk."

Now, he wasn't sure whether or not Quatre said something in response of called him a name but he was sure that he and Dorothy had vacated the area, leaving only him and Septum facing off with each other.

"Cute," Septum sneered. "You think you're some kind of hero, trying to protect them, eh?"

"No, I might trip over their dead bodies," Duo replied casually. "If they had stayed, dead they would become and I need all the room I can get without obstacles to kick your ass."

Septum blinked. "Guess you aren't so noble after all," he grinned maliciously.

"Whoever said I was?" Duo shot back as he blasted a wall of frozen time at the man in the mobile suit, blasting him back and through the wall into the room on the other side. The braided one reveled in the sounds of crashing as Septum and his suit seemed to hit everything that happened to be in there.

Forming his time knives casually, he strolling through the large hole that he had made, pumped for a good fight. This would be a nice warm up, he thought to himself, something to help limber him up for the tougher stuff.

A bright blast shot towards him but Duo was ready with his barrier of frozen time. Confident, he waited for the blast to strike and detonate but to his surprise, the blast cut through his transparent shield as if it wasn't even there. The blast hit him in the torso and he was blown off his feet into a wall back out in the hallway behind him.

Well, that had certainly been unexpected…

Other than being a little bit on the crispy side and overheated, Duo was none the worse for wear but his legs felt like jelly, making it harder than usual to stand up. Back in the room, Septum had gotten back up onto his mechanical feet and waited for the braided one to come to him. He was charged up and ready to send this bastard to hell.

No sooner had Duo reentered the room did Septum fire another blast. However, Duo was ready this time. He fired a blast of slowed down time to intercept Septum's blast but the beam of light was traveling through the air quickly and Duo's retaliation blast did nothing to slow it down. Eyes widening, the braided one had rolled out of the way and was in a full blown run.

Something wasn't right here; there was no way the man could take him, even in that oversized tin can.

Meanwhile, Septum was recalling what Xavien had told him this suit could do. Harnessing light itself and making it into a weapon, oh he could see the possibilities with it. He knew for a fact that the braided rat scurrying before him was able to manipulate time but he was nevertheless surprised when his blasts of light had given him the upper hand.

Then again, light was the fastest moving energy in the universe; it could cross vast distances in such little time that…wow, now he understood. His attacks were just too quick for the rat to comprehend and amend to.

This fight was his.

Since Duo knew none of this, he was forced to run about, shooting as many blasts of time as he could while avoiding Septum's as best as he could. It was mindboggling how the other's attacks were swallowing his up as if they weren't even there but he was determined to take this golem down. The best way, he believed, was to get up close and grab the thing before working his magic on it.

The problem of course being he had to get close in the first place.

Apparently, Septum was a quick thinking man when engaged in combat and he caught on to what Duo was doing. Thus, he lulled the braided one into a sense of complacency and when he got close, he swung one of his arm cannons, striking Duo and flinging him aside like he was a rag dog.

Like the time before, the wall was unforgiving as his back came into contact with it. Pain erupted from this swath of his body as well as throbbing from where Septum hit him. This was not going the way he had planned it out in his head, not at all.

The floor underneath him shook with every step that Septum took towards him. Lifting his head up to glare, Duo ready himself for his next assault.

---

Quatre was by no means affected with each boom created by his shotgun but he did vaguely notice each flinch and wince Dorothy made each time he fired. After separating from Duo, the two had trekked deeper into Xavien's lair, coming across a blockade of guards who fought their hardest to stop the intruders.

So, whenever he didn't use his shotgun, he fired off his pistols, he shots usually hitting _something_, be it a limb or a head. By his count, he had avenged about twenty of his Maguanacs and the heat of battle was still presiding.

Pulling around a corner he was using as a shield against the returning fire, he reloaded his pistols and waited for a lull. The very second the last bullet was fired, he popped out around the corner and fired his own barrage of bullets, one of his first shots true.

Another Maguanac was avenged.

He didn't stay to gloat; he slid back around the corner and weathered under the returning fire that could only be delivered from submachine guns and assault rifles. As much as he liked this bantering of gunfire, he was getting impatient as neither he nor his companion had been able to move further. It was getting infuriating thus far and his exemplary patience was already wearing thin.

He wanted Xavien's head and he wanted it five minutes ago.

He was another wince from Dorothy that nearly set him off. He was about to shout his anger at her but stopped for a minute to take out a grenade and lob it down the hallway. The following explosion did nothing to defuse his frustration.

"Will you quit doing that?" he finally snapped, glaring at the blonde girl. "Or at least do something useful!"

"Well excuse me!" Dorothy snapped back. "Unlike some people, I don't have any special powers or know how to use guns!"

"Then why are you still here?!" Quatre snarled. "You're utterly useless here! Do you need to get a bullet in your head before you get how pathetic you are?!"

Before Dorothy could retort, another voice spoke up. "Don't bother trying to put logic into her head. It hasn't worked yet. Why would it now?" A gust of wind blew past them and down the adjoining hallway where screams and cries erupted. Immediately, it all became quiet but Quatre's attention was more set on the sight of Jason fucking Ciliars standing a few feet away from them, looking absolutely bored.

"What are you doing here?!" he exclaimed.

"Got bored. You were taking too long," Jason shrugged.

"Well that's fine and dandy," Quatre spat bitterly. "I swear, you're like a little kid!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Jason retorted. "Just get your business finished so we can get out of here. I could be drinking something right now."

"Great, you're an alcoholic now," Quatre rolled his eyes. "Saw that one coming a mile away."

"What's that suppose to mean?" Jason glared at the blond, his eyes slowly fading to green.

Before Quatre could shoot a reply, the floor around Jason suddenly crumbled from beneath him due to large icicles spiking out from it, dropping the teen to the floor below.

"Christ," Quatre breathed in wonder before the familiarity of this struck him.

"Fuck!"

---

"That hurt…" Jason moaned as he came to his senses.

"We haven't even gotten started."

Jason's head snapped up. What he saw was not one of the things he wanted to see right now.

"Mordred?"

For once, a smirk caused the ever frowning corners of Mordred's lips to quirk upwards if only for a moment. "Good, you recognize me. We can skip the pleasantries and get down to the good stuff."

Jason groaned. "I don't want to do this, buddy."

"You have no choice," Mordred snarled.

"Since when?" Jason demanded.

"Since the moment you killed my baby brother," Mordred hissed. "You've forfeited any mercy that may have been shown you're way. It's time that you pay for Stone's death and trust me, this is going to be long and slow."

Jason groaned again. "I knew I should've stayed top side."


	29. Kill Me

Author's Note: My longest chapter to date, over seven thousand words and all of it filled with action, suspense, death, and the usual. Now, here's a little game for y'all. Look through all the chapter titles and see if you can't pick out the title of a song that I've embedded. Tell me what the title of the song is and by who and…well, I don't know quite yet, maybe a chapter dedication, who knows? Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death

Kill Me

After spending a few minutes in futility trying to force his way through the icicles that sprouted from the floor, Quatre called it quits, ignoring a jive from Dorothy as he headed down the hallway they were trying to go through originally.

He paused in his march as the sight of blood painting everything from the walls to dripping from the ceiling and onto the floor. The bits and pieces of human beings weren't comforting either and Quatre couldn't help but do a "Hail Mary" in gratitude that Jason hadn't thought to do this to him. Not that there wasn't anything stopping the wind wielder, but Quatre thought that every little bit helps.

Giving up trying to make his way through the blood soaked hallway without stepping in any of it. Tiptoeing wasn't an option either and he had to mentally consign his pair of shoes to the garbage heap; after this he doubted he would get them clean ever again. The only uplifting part of this was Dorothy making a commotion trying to go through the mess herself and well, you get the idea.

Further into the base they went, leaving bloody footprints in their wake as Quatre led the way, searching for a way to the next floor or for any signs of his true target. Xavien had to be somewhere around here but as always the man was being elusive. In this case, the thrill of the hunt was not in the chase.

Hell, there weren't any more guards around for him to kill, a major bummer in his plans to avenge his father and the Maguanacs. The rush of adrenaline from the previous gunfights was wearing off, much to the blond's dismay; he needed to get that fix real soon else he'd get irritable.

Just turning down a hallway, he was treated to the sign of a door closing, signaling that someone had just been in the vicinity. Alright, he had somebody to interrogate. All he needed to do now was make his way to that door and let everything else follow.

"Stay here," he hissed at Dorothy. "I need to go scout out something."

"Like hell you're leaving me here alone!" Dorothy hissed back.

Pulling out a pistol, he shoved it into her face. "Don't argue with me," he growled. "I'm not in the mood and I'm not your babysitter. When I tell you to do something, O' Useless One, you do it!"

"Okay, okay," Dorothy grumbled as she backed away from the blond, her eyes wide. "You got it."

"Don't even think about following after me when my back's turned," he warned. "I won't hesitate to shoot you for that alone. I'll come back as soon as I can but you better keep your ass right here unless you have a good Goddamn reason to move."

Dorothy nodded and said nothing back, much to Quatre's satisfaction. He could only hope that his words had gotten into that thick skull of hers but he wasn't going to be holding his breath on that one. Of course, he did mean every word he said and a small part of him wanted her to disregard him.

Guess he was getting cranky from the withdrawal symptoms…

He carefully and quietly made his way to the closed doors, glancing back and forth from his front to his back, making sure he wasn't going to get any nasty surprises sneaking up on him. Reaching the door, he noticed that it was cracked open; it gave him a bad feeling but he thought that maybe he could turn it to his advantage. He couldn't see anything when peering through the crack but he could definitely here movement in the room on the other side.

Guess like he was going to have to risk it.

Getting in front of the door, he mentally counted down from three before shoving the door open violently and charging in, his shotgun raised and ready to pump someone full of lead. He was only halfway across the seemingly empty room when there was a gunshot that cracked through the noise of his entry.

Unfortunately, it wasn't one of his guns that made that noise.

The bullet passed through his body, entering into his back and exiting out from his chest, blood flying out in a spray. That first bullet was soon followed by a second bullet and a third and it was after that last one that his legs buckled from under him and he fell to the floor, his grip on his shotgun loosening and escaping his grip.

He was in a daze of pain, wondering how this could've happened when a horrifying realization struck him. He hadn't been wearing a bulletproof vest this entire time. Not even back in the ruins of Boulder had he worn one. What kind of a moron did he have to be to forget something as important as that vest…?

He hadn't noticed the approach of his assailant until after his guns were removed and he was kicked in his gut, turning him over onto his back. Cracking open his eyes, he found that his killer was the one person that he had been looking for.

Janus Xavien.

"My, my, I set my trap for a rat and I get a boy instead," Xavien commented. "What's a prominent person like yourself doing in a place like this, Quatre Winner?"

Quatre could only glare hatefully at the man. "You know," he hissed, coughing up a wad of blood. "You had…my father killed."

Blinking in confusion at the blond, it took a minute for Xavien to recall if Quatre's accusation held any merit. "Oh, that? He brought it upon himself, Quatre, when he decided to stick his nose into my business, just like you are now."

"You're dead," Quatre snarled.

"I'm afraid that's where you're wrong," Xavien said conversationally. Lowering his gun down, he fired a few more bullets into the blond. "It's you who's dead," he finished as he stepped away from the corpse. "Now, let's see if you're little friend is somewhere around here…"

---

Despite being a common occurrence, wind was not something easy to create since it required two things: hot and cold air. While not normally a problem since Jason could produce it at room temperature, the wind master did find himself at a bit of a handicap as Mordred's powers took hold over the arena that he had confined them to.

The air was freezing cold and frost was forming on all the surfaces around. Hell, he could see his breath mist in front of his face! And that's when he discovered his little problem.

However, he couldn't recoil at the horror of it as Mordred as stolen the offensive then and there, launching a barrage of small shards of ice at him. The tiny and sharp projectiles shot towards him at the speed of a bullet and the wind master was barely able to form the barest form of a shield to protect him. He had to use his own body heat to achieve this and even that was stretching him a bit.

"What's wrong?" Mordred taunted with a hiss. "Having trouble? Feeling a bit…helpless? It's the least I can do after what you did to my brother!"

Jason dispelled his shield and dodged to a side just as a blast of ice struck where he had been standing. Rubbing his palms together to get some friction, he then cupped the appendages and created a small, thin whirlwind than he shot at the other boy.

A long icicle forming around one hand, Mordred rolled his eyes and swatted Jason's attack away, not even impressed. "Pathetic. And I thought you were powerful."

"Maybe if you let it warm up a bit, I could oblige," Jason snapped back with a growl.

"Please," Mordred rolled his eyes again. "I saw the Winner tapes. I saw what you did to my baby brother; how you took away his voice and held him still, never giving him a chance to defend himself before you…killed him."

It was another blast of ice that Jason had to dodge but he had to twist out of the way to avoid the icicle encased hand that Mordred slashed at him with. Downward it went and Mordred soon proved to be quite versatile with it as he sliced horizontally with it immediately. Jason winced as the sharpened ice cut into his clothes and scratched his shoulder, the cold air stinging against it.

A couple of diagonal slices were dodged with only his clothing being ripped and Jason decided he had enough and retaliated. Using the heat in his mouth, he spat out a sharp-tipped whirlwind that blew off all but the ice surrounding Mordred's fist. However, Mordred didn't bat an eyelid, instead twirling around and landed a backhanded slap on Jason's cheek and throwing his halfway across the room to splat against the cold metal floor.

"Consider yourself lucky that you can even use these pathetic attacks," Mordred stated as he slowly advanced to Jason. "You can't say I didn't give you a 'fighting chance.'"

"Lucky me," Jason grumbled as he pushed himself up. "Didn't expect someone like you to be so tough, after all you sucked your way up to Two-eye's side. I honestly thought you were a pussy."

"Only someone as ill refined as you would think such a thing," Mordred spat as he punched at Jason. The wind master rolled out of the way and Mordred's ice encased fist struck the floor, leaving quite a large dent in it.

Crouching close to the floor, Jason watched Mordred warily as the other lunged at him, throwing punch after punch at him. There was some skill there, scratch that there was _a lot_ of skill in the way Mordred was attacking. He was quick and sinuous and Jason was finding it hard to parry the blows away, trying not to block or get hit. He had seen what Mordred had done to the floor and he had no desire for that to happen to him.

Pushing away, Jason stumbled back before he regained his footing. "What else would you call it?" he taunted.

"Survival," Mordred stated flatly. "You, you were probably picked up on the streets, your parents abandoning you long ago. Me, I was _sold_ for weed. My hippie parents who were so big on free love and they gave me up just to feed their addiction."

"Whoa," Jason breathed, wide-eyed.

"I could handle it," Mordred admitted. "You see, it was to Janus that they sold me to. He took care of me when no one else did and I vowed that I would become someone that he could have pride in, an investment that would pay off. But then my parents got desperate enough for more weed and Stone was sold. I heard I had a sister too and I know it's only a matter of time before they sell her too.

"Unlike you, I _volunteered_ for Project Maxwell. I needed the power that it promised to get back at those bastards who cared more about getting high than taking care of their children. You see, there was a constant factor among all the test subjects. Each and every one had a strong will, a will so strong that they refused to succumb to death itself and survive. My will has always been strong and that alone was the only reason why Janus granted my request.

"I am strong because I choose to be. But being strong is not enough; no, I must increase my strength and power so that I can change this sick world and create a new order, one in which I can make sure that those closest to me, my brother and my sister who is somewhere out there, can be safe and happy. But you, you _killed_ Stone and destroyed everything."

"Are you done yet?" Jason snapped before he formed a barrier of wind around him and blew it outwards, much to Mordred's shock. While the other had been monologuing, Jason had been using the distraction to focus his powers and build them up until he got the air in the room moving. Despite being in a room that was full of cold, there were still spots in it that were warmer than others and Jason just had to start moving the air before he could start using his powers to their full extent.

However, Mordred was not about to be put down by such an attack so easily. He formed icicles on both hands and cut through the windy attack, remaining unscathed though his ego had taken a hit.

"Impressive," he spat. "So you can attack me with all your might now? I guess I'll have to stop playing around and show you what I can really do!"

"Bring it!" Jason snarled as he formed his wind blades and charged at the ice master.

---

The more things change, the more they stay the same, how true that that could accurately describe this fight.

It seemed Copy Chris hadn't been improving his fighting skills since the last Solo saw him thus the natural blond had a major advantage against the other. Chris was more agile that he was, all aside, but it made no difference when the shapeshifter couldn't cause Solo any damage.

Chris had dodged the first two punches Solo had thrown at him with ease and had moved around swiftly before landing a high kick into the blond's side. Needless to say, Solo couldn't even feel that nor the other blows Chris hit him with from punches and kicks to more elaborate knees to the gut and elbows in the throat.

Hell, Solo had actually stopped fighting and just stood there while Chris attacked him and when Solo thought it wasn't enough, he shot a fist out to the side and nailed the other in the face. Chris actually flew off the floor and landed ass first on it a second later, clutching at his face in agony.

The sight was so pathetic that Solo didn't roll his eyes in exasperation at it.

Peeking out from between the fingers that held his face, Chris let out a noise of frustration before shifting his form into a large one. Solo raised his eyebrow at seeing Sigmund again but remained in place as the copied hulk rushed at him. In contempt, Solo tilted his head to a side and avoided the large fist that Chris punched at him with.

Without hesitation, the blond then slammed a fist straight into Sigmund/Chris' gut and put a premature halt to whatever rampage the shapeshifter might've done. Immediately, Chris shrunk back to his previous Solo double form and the real Solo gave the other a quick grin before punching the other in the cheek, throwing the other away.

Chris skidded on his heels, his arms pirouetting to keep his balance. He had barely come to a stop when he shifted again, this time taking the form of a large, hideous dog that possessed sharp claws and teeth and had the perchance to salivate a lot.

This time, Solo did roll his eyes as this latest form lunged at him and he caught the creature with ease, his hands gripping the beast's clawed paws tightly. Twisting them, he shattered the bones within and ignored the pain filled howl that Chris released as he threw his head back and then forward to headbutt him.

Pulling back a fist, Solo threw it into the shapeshifter, his arm going straight through Chris' body and out his back. Blood gushed out of the arm clogged hole and Chris' form shifted again, back into the Solo double with blood beginning to trickle out his mouth.

"Why…?" Chris managed to gasp out as more blood flooded out of his mouth. "I just…wanted…to…"

Slowly, his green eyes, which shifted into a shit brown color, glazed over in death and his body changed again, this time into a smaller body. Solo stared down impassively at the mousy brown hair and thin body that was Copy Chris' true form, one nearly the same height as Duo's but more lanky and average looking.

He lowered his blood drenched arm and let Copy Chris' body slide off of it to drop onto the floor with a wet splat.

---

He just couldn't get enough of what this suit could do!

From blasting out beams of light with explosive tendencies to shooting smaller, life threatening light bullets at the rate of a mini-gun, Septum watched in glee as he forced his braided opponent on the defensive.

Duo, on the other hand, was more than frustrated. The laws of physics were working against him this time around and unless he froze all of time, which would take an immense amount of energy and power, he doubted that he could turn the tables to his favor on a permanent basis. Going on the offensive was a choice that was taken from him and not given back thus he could only run and jump about since his usual tactics were of no use here.

Any time he did try to shoot a blast of time at Septum, the man's returning fire would tear the attack apart as if it wasn't even there. He couldn't help but wonder if this was how all those normal people felt around him and Solo.

Skidding to a stop as soon as Septum ceased fire, he glared at the suited man, panting for breath. He was really beginning to reconsider not freezing all of time; at the rate he was going, he was burning all his energy up anyway, just at a slower rate.

Septum smirked at him; before he could act, he fired two blasts of light that detonated on either side of him. With the burning energy on either side of him, Duo didn't dare try and dodge to his left or right as Septum fired a third beam, this one aimed directly at him.

Seeing no escape, Duo did something truly stupid yet completely desperate. He formed a time knife and when the beam of light was a few feet from him, he slashed at it. Amazingly, his knife split the beam in half and twisting his body sideways, Duo evaded the cut beam as it blazed past him on either side.

At first surprised, Septum didn't let the shocked feeling control him and acted quickly, shooting out another barrage of light bullets. Seeing them coming yet knowing that he couldn't step out of the way, at least not at this range, Duo crossed his arms in front of himself and let the miniature blasts strike and burn him. Surprisingly, the pellets had some punch to them and the braided one found himself being forced backwards until his back met the wall.

From there, the light bullets detonated all around him and there was nothing he could do about it. It was unexpected when it ended, so much so that Duo almost fell to his knees but out of pure stubbornness remained standing albeit with bent legs.

"You don't know when to quit, do you?" Septum taunted as he slowly drew closer to the braided one. "No matter, I like breaking stubborn colts like you. It's always so much more satisfying."

"Well, you know what they say, the bigger they are, the harder they fall," Duo said, panting.

"You're not that big, boy," Septum replied.

"I was talking about you," Duo retorted as he leapt at the man. Twisting his body, he landed a kick straight into Septum's face, causing both the man and suit to stumble back.

However, Duo had barely fallen back down to the floor when Septum recovered and regained his footing. He swung a cannoned hand down and Duo was nearly smashed by it, rolling out of the way just in the nick of time. He continued to roll as Septum next tried to stomp at him with those heavy, mechanical feet.

Running into the wall much sooner than he had wanted to, Duo looked up quickly to see the suited Septum just over him with a leg raised, ready to squash him flat.

"End of the line, boy," Septum growled malevolently.

Acting instinctively, Duo reformed a time knife and plunged it straight into Septum's other leg and waited.

"Is that it?" Septum demanded. "How pathethic."

Duo smirked. "Time to fall, big boy."

From the point in which Duo's knife stabbed into Septum's suit's foot, rust blossomed and quickly spread upwards, the leg becoming inoperable as the wires and circuitry rotted and became useless. It was lucky that the spreading damage reached into the other leg and prevented Septum from stomping his foot down once he had realized what was happening.

Soon, Septum was trapped in a rust covered tin can and couldn't move it an inch to save his life, no matter how hard he struggled.

Emerging from his laid out position on the floor, Duo shot the enraged man a cheeky grin before lightly pressing a finger against the rusted hull of the suit. In a comical fashion, the suit fell backwards and landed with a loud clang.

Maneuvering so that he was now right above the still struggling Septum, he tapped the man's forehead playfully and received a hate filled glare for his antic. Casually, he pressed the tip of his time knife into Septum's throat and the man froze, eyes widening in horror at his exact position.

"You have an annoying voice, you know that?" Duo spoke up before stabbing the knife down.

---

Mordred fell back onto the defensive and let Jason strike at him heatedly, blocking with his sharpened icicle clad hands whenever Jason sliced at him with his wind blades.

It could be said, and Jason grudgingly admitted this as well, that attacking blindly as he was was a far cry from usual tactics, such as studying his opponent before engaging them in battle. All he had here were rumors and hearsay about what the ice master could do and the fact that he was close to Two-eyes did nothing to boost his confidence. Knowing already what Kyle, the light wielder, had gone through back when he was alive and that Mordred had gone under the same thing, voluntarily, was also another nail in his coffin.

Trying to fight like this wasn't going to do anything for him in the long run, especially if he couldn't land a single fucking hit!

He was going to have to go all out before Mordred did.

He dismissed his wind blades temporarily to form a wall of wind in between the palms of his hands, throwing the ball at Mordred to buy some time. Seeing the ice wielder's eyes narrow as the attack came at him, Jason got busy searching for all the points in the room where it was warmer. He located as many as he could just as Mordred annihilated attack with a slash of his icy weapon.

"Is that it?" Mordred said. "I expected more from you."

"Oh really?" Jason smirked just before he threw everything into chaos. The very air around them began to whirl at tornado speeds and while Jason let himself be picked up by the gale, Mordred practically froze his feet to the floor.

"What is this?" Mordred roared, his voice getting lost in the wind as he covered his eyes with an arm.

"The end!" Jason yelled as he launched himself at the ice master, his wind blades resummoned and ready to cut into the other's body.

Mordred blocked Jason's swipe easily and with the blunt end of his other ice clad hand, he smacked the other away with ease. His eyes soon opened in realization as Jason rebounded much quicker and was on him before he could act. It was pure luck that Jason's wind blade was a bit too high so that it barely cut his shoulder.

Shoving Jason away, Mordred broke out of his self made restraints and let himself be taken by the spinning winds. It wasn't easy to get used to but if anything could be said, he was a quick learner. Coming towards a wall, he flipped and landed feet first against it and pushed himself straight ahead, his target being none other than Jason.

The two met in a clash of blades, each one cutting each other into ribbons and blood spurting out to be caught up in the small storm. The majority of the blood, though, belonged to Jason as more of Mordred's slashes were true. Not to say that Jason didn't get some hits, mind you, it was just that more of his missed or were close but not close enough to the ice master.

Jason soon lost his control over the winds as Mordred plunged an icy blade into his shoulder, the intense pain destroying his concentration and, well, the rest is history.

The spinning winds exploded out and dissipating, leaving the two fighting figures to plop to the ground. Mordred was agile enough to flip in the air and land on his feet, rolling when the strain became too much but none the worse for wear.

Jason, though, wasn't as graceful as he landed flat on his back and remained unmoving except for the rising and falling of his chest as he gasped for air. Blood leaked out from all the cuts and injuries he had sustained.

Mordred smirked. "Not good enough. Seems like you were all talk."

He attempted to take a step forward but stopped immediately as he experienced a weird sensation. It felt like all the organs in his body were trying to exit out his body in all directions at the same time, but how…

It was then that it became apparent that Jason's attacks hadn't been completely harmless. The intensity of the wind in Jason's wind blades had been enough to create nearly invisible cuts in both his uniform and his skin and from the pressure of the wind that surrounded them, prevented the wounds from bleeding.

Now with the absence of the wind, all the fluids in his body were still moving and without the pressure from the outside keeping them in, escaped from the multiple points of exits that Jason had provided.

In layman's terms, all the blood in Mordred's body blasted out of all the unfelt cuts on his body and left him a dried a husk that fell to the floor without a splat.

From where he laid, Jason smiled. "That took a lot," he panted. "Hope you two can handle this yourselves," he continued, speaking to the absent Duo and Solo, "cause I'm pooped. Good luck to you…"

---

The harmless pelting of machine gun fire didn't make the blond flinch or even blink as he clotheslined two nearby guards that happened to be in his way. Broken necks were the order of the day for those two schmucks and a shattered ribcage was for the asshole who had come around the corner and shot him in the face.

Solo wasn't heading anywhere specifically, just down the hallways were there was anybody who happened to be there, whether they were armed or not didn't matter. He had a bone to pick with _all_ of them.

Of course, there would come those stretches where he wasn't being shot at or someone unfortunate got in his way so to liven it up, he would bust through a wall or two until he found someone and then introduce them to his fist.

Like he did just now.

It took a few walls this time around but the steel reinforcements could go to hell. He wasn't that rebel-without-a-cause kid anymore. He was a man with a mission who was much stronger than before. He found his next adrenaline boost in a large garage like room, one filled with vehicles undergoing maintenance and a catwalk above head. Not used to an elaborate set up, Solo raised an eyebrow at the place before he was assaulted by the guards and mechanics that had holed up in here.

Snorting as bullets bounced off him, he picked up a nearby van and threw it with deadly accuracy at a small group, crushing them instantly and forcing the other to scatter. No problem, Solo was feeling especially murderous today. If he had to pick these assholes off one by one, what could he do? He didn't know if he had run into the guy who ran this place yet but it was better to kill everybody here just in case.

It was only after he had wrecked the place that Duo finally showed up, frazzled but looking not that bad. He surveyed the area before giving the blond a look and said, "You've been holding back. There's not a single hole here."

"I'm workin' on it," he grumbled as he tossed aside a headless mechanic's body.

Shooting a blast of frozen time at a mechanic that was trying to sneak past them, Duo shook his head in amusement. "Oh, so you're not holding back but slipping? Damn, you were doing so well too."

"So where's the kiddies?" Solo huffed, changing the subject. "Ya didn't lose them, did ya?"

"Nah, they're doing their own thing," Duo answered. "Probably in a closet or something."

"Or dead."

"Or dead," Duo agreed before stopping. Solo also blinked in confusion. That hadn't been his voice and it wasn't Duo's either so…

As one, they turned their heads and looked up at one of the catwalks to find a man in a business suit and brown trench coat holding Dorothy with a gun barrel pressed against her head. The man looked absolutely gleeful that their eyes were on him and while Solo didn't recognize the guy, Duo tensed up and glared the man down.

"Xavien," he hissed, startling the blond.

Wait, this was the guy? The guy who was responsible for everything? _This guy_? You have got to be kidding.

"You sound so happy to see me," Xavien teased as he traded Duo look for look, not in the least bit intimidated. "Finally decided to come back on your own?"

"Never," Duo snarled. "The only reason I'm here is to see you get put six foot under, you bastard."

"Pity," Xavien said. "I guess I shouldn't expect logic from a malfunctioning weapon."

"Why don't you shut da hell up?" Solo snapped. "We're not here to be your playthings, ya dick!"

"I beg to differ," Xavien replied maliciously. "If it wasn't for me, you'd still be on the streets, probably dead or wishing you were dead. I give you food and shelter and this is the thanks I get? I expected so much more from you, streetrat."

"Thanks? For making me in ta this?" Solo said, repulsed. "At least I coulda made my own choices. You're a waste of space here, pal, so c'mon down here and take your lumps like a man!"

"I think not," Xavien said fluidly, a glint in his eyes. "Tell me, do you like music?"

"What da fuck have you been smokin'?" Solo wondered outloud.

Not perturbed, Xavien continued, "There's this one song I enjoy listening to but I've never been able to get its name right. Maybe you can tell me; it goes something like this:

_Jeepers Creepers, where'd you get those peepers?_

_Jeepers Creepers, where'd you get those eyes?_"

Shit! Solo's eyes widened and he turned to look at Duo who had frozen up again, his eyes wide. He had forgotten all about that! Shit, Duo, don't go all machine!

It was tense for a few minutes as it looked like Duo was struggling within himself. It almost got to the point that Duo's entire body was trembling with the strain and the way things were looking, the outcome could be anything.

And then he relaxed.

"Fuck off, ass," Duo spoke up suddenly. "That's not gonna work on me anymore. I'm a single personality now."

You have no idea the feeling of relief that flooded Solo's body.

Xavien looked as if someone had punched him in the gut. He had been sure that he still had that braided rat under his thumb, so sure in means of control…but what had been disbelief slowly turned into anger and then fury.

"Is that so," he spat, shaking a frightened Dorothy. "Perhaps you've forgotten about her. Make a move and she dies."

"Ya know, you have a bad taste in hostages," Solo said dryly, butting in. For his effort, he got a glare from Dorothy who momentarily forgot that her life was being held in the hands of a madman.

"You mean she means nothing to you?" Xavien asked, raising his eyebrows. There was something in the way he said that that neither of the two teens liked… "I guess she is of no use to me then."

None of them saw it coming. Xavien only tightened his hold on Dorothy for a second, like he was shifting her to get a better grip, before he pulled the trigger and fired a bullet into her head. Both Solo and Duo's eyes widened in horror as the man shoved Dorothy away from him and off the catwalk where the teens were running towards.

Solo was the one to reach her first and he caught her with uncharacteristic tenderness and lowered her to the floor where Duo was immediately on her, trying to see what he could do. Curses escaped his mouth at the entering and exiting wounds on either side of the girl's head and he didn't know where to start to save her. He knew that he needed to heal up the wound, and do it quickly he added, and stop the bleeding but this was nothing like when he helped Solo against Asmodai's poison.

"Do somethin' already!" Solo exclaimed at him. He'd only been bluffing before; while it was true she meant nothing to him, that didn't mean he wanted her to get hurt. Shit! "Can't ya turn back time or something?"

"I can only stop or slow it down," Duo retorted as he tried to work his magic. "There's no way I can reverse it on this small of a scale! Shit!"

His sentiments exactly. Looking up, Solo noticed the last of Xavien's coat vanish through a doorway and his eyes narrowed.

"Fuck! There's so much blood!" Duo swore to himself. "Can you find me something to stop it? Solo?"

Looking up, the braided one found himself alone, no blond in sight.

"Great," he muttered to himself. "Fucking copout."

---

It wasn't hard to follow after Xavien, as Solo found out. The man was making so much noise in his "great escape" that the blond bet a blind man could have followed after him. Scratch that, make it a deaf man, that fit in better.

There was nothing on his mind other than to give this cocksucker a taste of his own medicine; first he kidnaps people and makes them his personal guinea pigs, then he starts killing people for no real reason? This bastard had to be stopped before he could victimize others.

Solo would be damned if he let it happen again.

Coming across a metal door that had just shut, telling the blond that someone had just gone through it, he pounded on the barrier a couple times before slice his hand into it and pulling it off. He was immediately sprayed with droplets of water as the sprinkler system in the hallway before him was activated for seemingly no apparent reason.

Seeing only one door at the end of the hallway as all the motivation the blond needed to march down into it, not minded that he was getting drenched along the way. To his surprise, the door opened before he could reach it but he didn't look a gift horse in the mouth. If Xavien was inviting him in, who was he to refuse it and not R.S.V.P.?

The metal door closed behind him with a hiss but that did not bother the blond as much as the fact that he was facing a wall of one-way glass that overlooked a large room filled with vats of a clear-purplish liquid. Forgetting about his pursuit for a moment, he took a couple steps to the windows, utterly confused and wanting to know just what that stuff down there was.

He was stopped immediately as a surge of electricity plundered his body and he fell into a boneless heap, his muscles spasming underneath his skin.

Footsteps sounded from behind and Solo cursed himself. Why hadn't he checked the room he was in first before looking out the windows that had so captivated his attention? And just how was he taken down so easily by a bit of electricity? Honestly! He'd had worse before.

"Nifty, eh?" Xavien commented as he came into sight, a metal tube held in one hand. "It's a new design, specially made to take down even the most stubborn of Project Maxwell weapons. Of course, getting wet before coming in here only hurt you more. It was a good idea to turn on the sprinklers after all, it seems."

Solo cursed himself; how could he have been so stupid? Sure it had been an elaborate set up, but still! Now look at him, he had no control over his own body at the moment.

"I saw you were mesmerized by the Solution 1051," Xavien continued blithelessly, as if he was unaware that the blond couldn't move! "Interesting. That's going to have to be something I try on other weapons, whether or not they can be hypnotized by the sight of the serum. It would definitely make controlling future weapons easier…"

"Fuck off," Solo hissed, just now getting control over his mouth and vocal cords.

He was rewarded with another shot of electricity. However, Xavien thought that the blond had earned more than to be tased again and added a swift kick into Solo's gut.

"Insolent rat!" Xavien spat. "You have no appreciation for all I've done, all that I've sacrificed to get to this point. No, you have to feel special and ruin everything, don't you?" As if infuriated by the memory, Xavien delivered another kick into the blond's gut and to Solo's alarm, he almost felt it. "I've dedicated half my life to this," he continued, his anger audible in his voice. "What have you done that's so special, eh? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

This time the kick was to the head and was followed by another shot from the taser. Solo couldn't even groan as his muscles filled with lactic acid and he couldn't stop the spasms that wracked his body.

"You're nothing!" Xavien bellowed, stomping down on the blond with the heel of his foot. "Without me, you're nothing but a worthless _streetrat_! I made you into an unstoppable force of destruction, gave you some purpose in your useless life and what do you do? Throw a tantrum like a four year old brat. You should be grateful, no _ecstatic_, that I chose you. Without me you are nothing! You hear me? NOTHING!"

Another stomp, this time to the face, and a few more kicks into his gut. This time he definitely felt something. Xavien didn't look like the prim and pressed businessman that he had been when this torture session had began. His hair was starting to take a more wild look and his eyes were wide with malice and rage.

Taking a few breaths, Xavien stopped, slowly coming back to himself. "It's time I do something I should have done a long time ago," he finally said as he began to up the intensity of the voltage in his taser. "With you gone," he continued, "11085 will finally live up to what he always should have been and Project Maxwell will give me the one thing I have been seeking for decades."

Looking down at the blond and pointing the taser at him, Xavien concluded with a single word. "Immortality."

His finger pressed down on the trigger and then increased the pressure. That was when Solo acted; he sprang up and grabbed the taser by its end and turned it away from him and forced it right into Xavien. The man's eyes widened as electricity surged through his body but it was, ironically enough, Solo who prevented him from falling to the floor.

Panting, Solo said, "Nothin', huh?" Glancing out the windows to where the vats of the liquid that had been pumped into him and so many others resided, he added, "If you like that crap so much, how 'bout you take a good swim in it!"

Pushing Xavien away and firing the taser again for extra measure, Solo landed a solid punch into his chest. Xavien flew back and crashed into the windows, breaking through them and falling down into one of the vats, landing with a large splash.

Solo looked out from the broken window, staring dispassionately as the liquid below sloshed. Nothing emerged for several minutes and Solo thought it safe to turn and leave.

Over. It was finally over. This feeling of relief he felt as he trudged down the hallways, heading back to where Duo and Dorothy were, just blew him away. It had taken so long to reach this moment and now that it had been achieved, he didn't know what to do. No more running, fighting for survival, it was overwhelming in a sense.

It was in this daze that he arrived back in the garage, absentmindedly jumping off the catwalk to land next to a quiet Duo who made no move to acknowledge the blond. It took Solo himself a minute to realize that Duo was being uncharacteristically silent and a feeling of dread balled up in his stomach.

"Hey," he said, "she alright?"

"No," Duo sighed. "She was dead before she fell. Should've known a headshot was instant death," he added a bit sardonic. Looking up at Solo, he asked, "Where were you?"

"Tightening a loose end," Solo answered. "Made sure that bastard can't hurt anyone anymore."

"So it's over then," Duo sighed, standing up.

"Uh huh," Solo agreed, nodding his head.

Still looking at his friend, a small smile graced the braided one's lips. "What say you we get out of this place?"

A smile formed on Solo's face. "That's the best fuckin' thing I heard all day."


	30. Last Hurrah

Author's Note: Due to the request and popular demand of Kibin Okami and because it's you, KO, I am updating ahead of schedule. Big surprise? Maybe. Anyway, the events in this chapter have been bouncing around in my head since The Maxwell Project and it took me about a day to write the entire thing. Yeah, you all get the idea. So get ready for the climax, sit back, and enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language, violence, death

Last Hurrah

The vat of Solution 1051 had settled, the sudden entrance of an unexpected guest finally being overcome. All was quiet as the seconds ticked by slowly, unheeding of everything going on about it.

Then for a second, a spurt of electricity shot out of the vat only to vanish as soon as it had appeared. Calmness resumed for a few more minutes before it was interrupted again by another spurt of electricity, this one lasting only a second longer that the one that came before it.

It was soon followed by a rapid succession of my electrical bolts that erupted out of the solution, spreading around in a searching manner, feeling the liquid then solid surfaces that surrounded them. Like feelers, they seemed to examine everything around them yet did absolutely nothing to whatever they touched.

The Solution 1051 itself was slowly beginning to solidify, turning more into a slosh than a pure liquid. Beneath it all, Janus Xavien's body dissolved and fused with the serum about it, the electricity that coursed through the body due to the active taser pressed against it giving the catalyst for the Solution 1051 to enter into Xavien's DNA. Due to his use of his youth formula that he had so religiously taken, Xavien's body had begun to adapt and become more accepting of the more pure solution that surrounded him.

Then the small electric bolts came into contact with a computer console and the voltage within it intensified as if a switch had been turned on. Racing along the bolt, the sloshed Solution 1051 came into contact with the computer just as other bolts of electricity came into contact with other various machines.

Virtual tentacles of Solution 1051 burst out of the vat and began melding with all the nearby electronic equipment. Back in the vat, a large bulge in the slosh emerged, slowly taking the form of a skull…

---

It was quiet as Duo and Solo made their way out of the base; it was almost as if they had killed everybody here.

Awesome.

Yet it was bittersweet in a way. Sure they had gotten their revenge and told the assholes who ran this place where to stick it but it just didn't feel the same. Maybe it was the death of that annoying girl who followed them all over the place or maybe it was something else but the two teens only felt empty.

It wasn't a nice feeling but neither knew what to do to fix it.

It was needless to say that the ride back up the elevator was uneventful. There was no one around trying to stop them anyway so there was no need to worry about the metal box trying to kill them again. Unless, of course, you counted the elevator music that continued to play from the speakers but that was another matter entirely.

As the doors opened and the cool desert night air enveloped them, both hesitated for a moment, even taking the time to look at each other with understanding looks. Unsure, that was the word to describe it. They were unsure about taking the first step back into the surface world, the same place they had escaped into so long ago and torn asunder. The intensity of the moment was strong, strong enough that it could have slay both of them in an instant but it did give one of them the extra oomph to lift one foot and put it in front of the other.

It was Duo who exited the elevator first and he closed his eyes as the reality of the situation dawned upon them. They were free, finally free! No more running, no more having to fight for the right to simply exist, no one telling them what to do…eh, that last wasn't too much of an issue. If memory serves right, they had both disregarded whatever authority told them not to do happily and did it, no matter the consequence.

How else were you to have fun without breaking a few measly rules?

The reassuring presence that was Solo came from behind yet Duo didn't need to turn to acknowledge it. Hell, he didn't even have to open his eyes to know that the blond was right beside him.

Of course, Solo being Solo, he just had to do or say something to ruin the moment. This time around, he lightly slapped Duo on the back of his head. Since the blond was incredibly strong, the light tap caused the braided one to stumble forward, his eyes nearly popping out of his head at the unexpected gesture.

"Done makin' yourself look like an idiot?" Solo said, ruining the dramatic moment further. "Ya look stupid just standin' there with your eyes closed."

Rubbing the back of his and shooting the blond a glare, Duo said nothing to him as he grumbled to himself about annoying blonds and their tendency to reduce a perfectly Oscar winning performance to a slapstick comedy skit. Honestly, did the guy have no tact? At all?

"Looks like Jason ditched us," Solo groused as he walked ahead of the braided one, his sight trained on the empty suburban where a certain wind master should've been but wasn't.

"And you're surprised by that," Duo retorted. "He didn't want to be here, remember?"

"True, true," Solo agreed. Something caught his eye and he narrowed the optic organs to peer at whatever it was that caught his attention. "What da hell?" he muttered to himself, frowning.

Turning to look where his blond companion was, he too narrowed his eyes and frowned.

Quite a distance away there was a large cloud of dirt that was billowing up into the night sky yet it wasn't a tornado or some shit like that. No, if he squinted his eyes enough, Duo could have sworn that there was these black shapes that were heading in their direction and at a surprisingly fast clip.

The sudden roar of helicopter blades and the engines of fighter jets tore through the silent night and the two teens looked at each other in exasperation.

"Reinforcements?" Duo questioned.

"Don't know," Solo shrugged. "This the first time I seen jets 'round. Somebody else?"

"Whoever it is wants to jump into the meat grinder," Duo agreed, rolling his eyes.

Bright lights suddenly blinded them and they raised their arms up to shield their eyes. It was becoming obvious that they had underestimated these guys, whoever they were. They had a few fucking tanks already set up with their barrels aimed straight at them as well as countless numbers of men and vehicles, all armed to the teeth with itchy trigger fingers.

They could hear a booming voice sounding out from a megaphone, ordering them to drop to the ground and put their hands on their heads, yadda yadda yadda but it was becoming obvious just who it was.

Looks like the military was getting involved.

Looking at the blond as their eyes adjusted, Duo asked, "Should we humor them?"

"I'm thinkin' yes," Solo growled as he cracked his knuckles.

However, neither of the two got a chance to do what they wanted to, namely senseless violence and destruction, as the ground heaved beneath them and threw them to their stomachs. It was as if there was something belowground and it was punching at the barrier that blocked it from the air without.

That description, though, was entirely accurate as the earth trembled again and a bulge rose out of it, soil and rock cracking with large faults as the mound towered over everything. One more heave and a large, gray, slithering _thing_ erupted from the hole in the ground, rising higher and higher.

Its gray flesh throbbed almost unnaturally and the very tip of it shuddered as it continued to ascent, branching out once, no twice, and branched out three large appendages, two on its left side and one on its right, that began forming crude hands on the end. In-between the two uppermost limbs, another bulge grew and moved as a face formed in it. The face seemed to struggle as it pushed outwards, a gaping maw slowly forming into a mouth as the face began to harden and take up features that resembled a very familiar person.

From the empty left eye socket, a protrusion grew out and Duo vaguely recognized it as having belonged to Septum's fighting suit, specifically the targeting device, while the remaining right eye socket hardened and a hole resembling an iris and pupil rolled out. Now resembling Xavien more than ever, the face grimaced before it contorted into anger as the surrounding military forces began to fire at it with all it had, tanks, guns and aircraft firing bullets and missiles with abandon.

The enormous Asimov was unaffected by attacks instead preferring to unleash a large metallic tentacle that had the habit of dividing into several more and sent it after everything in its sight. The ends of each of the tentacles contained piercing needles that stabbed into every vehicle from trucks to tanks to the flying helicopters and jets in the sky. From there, the tentacles continued to divide and spread out, capturing all the military equipment and personnel that happened to not get away in time. Raising it all into one large mass, the Asimov began absorbing it, the large body undergoing further changes.

Breaking out from the rest of the destroyed underground complex was a large metallic bulk from which four canister-like protrusion grew from, the protrusions growing and settling two on a side of the bulk, sharp blades formed into triangle patterns shooting out and cutting into the ground, helping the bulk to rise further out of the ground. From the neck and left shoulder, a jet engine shaped cannon emerged while the upper left hand evolved into a more recognizable hand, the lower left remaining a crude three fingered hand. The lone right one, however, sprouted four large, triangular blades that pierced out of the metal skin and looked especially sharp.

The rest of the upper body began hardening from its soft, pudgy mass, taking on humanoid features yet looking nothing like one all the while keeping a thin, sinewy form. Rocks and dirt fell from all over the Asimov's body, descending onto and dirtying the two teens who had watched it all in disbelief and horror.

An ominous green light radiated out from the metal monster's left eye and with a booming roar that sounded like an incredibly deep tone version of Xavien's, a blast of pure, green colored energy rocketed forth and struck the earth some distance away, detonating into an enormous half-spherical green explosion. The wind ripped all around them as the explosion sustained itself for a few minutes before slowly dissipating as the energy within it was burned off.

"SUCH POWER!" the monster's voice bellowed from above. "TO THINK ALL THIS TIME I COULD HAVE HAD ACCESS TO IT! NOTHING CAN STAND AGAINST ME NOW!"

It was now obvious that this was certainly Xavien and he was still in control. His mind was a different thing altogether; he had lost that a long time ago.

It was in this moment that Duo reflected on it all. So this was the outcome of Project Maxwell; the end result of all James Maxwell's hopes, dreams, and fantasies. A dream corrupted into this monstrosity that had the full intention of destroying the world and all its people just for a little bit more power.

There was no way in hell they could let this thing leave.

Looking over at Solo, Duo spoke, "Think you can take one last round?"

Looking back at his smaller companion, Solo nodded. "Fuckin' A."

---

Blades of steel emerged out of the dirt and back into the canister shaped legs of monster that was now Xavien, the leg rotating to aimed in a spot in front of the triangular pattern that the blades had left behind and shooting those blades back into the dirt, rotating backwards again to propel the Asimov's bulk further.

It was slow going but Xavien was in no hurry. He had all the time in the world to absorb every single electronic device on the planet and evolve into a greater, even more powerful form. He had all he had ever wanted and more but he hungered still for more than what he already had. No more did he want to dominate every living being on this planet; what he desired now was power, the unblemished, raw energy that throbbed beneath his metallic exterior and gave him life. That was what he wanted now and he was going to get it.

Nothing would stop him. Nothing at all.

His head suddenly flinched back as a large chunk of earth struck him but other than that he was unaffected. However, that did not mean his anger wasn't provoked. With rage glittering in his one humanoid eye, he glared down at the ground where he caught sight of the insignificant insect that was 12093.

How dare that runt defy him! Even now in the presence of his magnificent being that malfunctioning waste of space was still trying to make a menace of itself? It was past due that he terminate this pest once and for all!

Without a second's hesitation, he roared and unleashed another blast from his left eye, the energy exploding as it made contact with the earth and swallowed him up.

In the meantime, as Solo watched the green death shot towards him, he was grabbed by Duo and warped away, appearing high above the half-spherical explosion and slowly descending towards it. Tearing out of the explosion came Xavien's one normal looking hand that swiped at them but barely was able to reach them, mere inches separating the two from the enormous hand. Pulling his leg back, Solo swatted the hand away with his foot while using it as a springpad to throw both him and Duo away from the explosion.

The upper portion of Xavien soon joined his scorned hand as it tore out of the remnants of the explosion, swiping at the two falling teens with his bladed hand. At this point, the duo separated, Duo keeping himself afloat by summoning his tendrils and attaching himself to the blades while Solo rebounded off them to land on the long wiry arm the bladed hand was connected to.

He ran up the metal arm with all the speed he could muster, glaring up at the raged filled eye that observed his progress. Of course, that progress became nil as it was his turn to be swatted away as Xavien's crude looking third hand made an appearance and knocking him off to fall to the ground far below.

Now, Solo would have been okay with this but apparently Xavien wasn't satisfied with knocking him off his arm. No, now he was sprouted all sorts of turrets, each one aimed at him and the blond knew instinctively that this wasn't going to end well.

His assumption wasn't far off was he was nailed with every kind of explosive projectile conceivable and damn it, they all _hurt_! That's right, the indestructible, one-man siege machine was actually feeling pain from the kind that resulted from being stuck by something big and blunt to the stinging pain that came from the intense explosions. It was only after all of that did he land on the ground and that only added even more injury. To think the day would come that he could feel something through his tough hide…

A dark shadow fell over him and he looked up to see the bottom of one of Xavien's legs, the three blades in them ready to pierce into him at a second's notice.

"LETS SEE JUST HOW TOUGH YOU REALLY ARE," Xavien sneered, his eye wide with glee.

Seeing his best and only friend in such a position struck Duo to the core. As he watched it in horror, he snapped his attention back the metal megalith and let out a roar of his own as he stabbed as much of his power as he could gather in such a short amount of time into the arm he was still on.

Rust spread out instantly but Xavien jerked and switched his attention to the braided one immediately. "LITTLE GNAT," he growled as he sprung a metal tentacle out of the rusting area. With mandible shaped blades and rotating spikes that whirled at an incredible speed, the tentacle lunged at Duo, forcing him to scramble out of the way.

The tentacle made chase as Duo twisted and evaded its attempts to grab him, breaking through every tentative shield the braided one raised to delay it. His dodging soon had to take a more frantic style as he came into range of the multitudes of gun turrets that littered Xavien's exterior, each one shooting with all it had for one sole purpose: to kill the son of this monster.

Duo had to raise a thick wall of frozen time to cover his back but he still had to deal with that menacing tentacle that was still on his heels. The thing lunged at him with a jabbing maneuver and it was all Duo could do to twist to aside. He hissed in pain as one of the mandible shaped blades barely cut into his chest and while it was nonlife-threatening, that still didn't mean that blood didn't come pouring out of it.

Forming two large time knives on both hands, he stabbed them both into either side of the tentacle, an inhuman shriek screeching from it as it was covered in rust and shattered into pieces. Duo smirking in triumph but it was short lived as he was smacked from the side…by another damn tentacle!

Away from Xavien he flew and from there became the immediate target of all the gun turrets, the exception being the ones that were still firing at him. Before he could be used as target by the rest, Duo warped away. This respite was also short lived as one of Xavien's left hands slammed into him from above and sent him shooting down to the ground with the speed of a bullet.

Unlike Solo, though, when he hit the ground, he would go splat and that wasn't a pleasant thought.

As the ground zoomed up at him, Duo faced it bravely, determined not to break off his staring contest with death. The air billowed all around as his body cut through it like a bullet but then he started getting a very discerning sensation and was it him or was the ground moving away?

"Snap out of it already!" he heard a disgruntled Jason snap. "Stop daydreaming and get your fucking act together you idiot!"

"Where the fuck did you come from?" Duo yelled back, surprised. "Didn't you hightail it already?"

"No time for that! DODGE!" Jason roared at him.

Not expecting that, Duo soon found out what the wind master was speaking of as Xavien's bladed hand slashed at them. A warp later and he was above it, Jason's power wrapping around him again and keeping him afloat.

"LITTLE INSECTS," Xavien snarled. "WHY WON'T YOU DIE?!"

With the large cannon growing out of his neck and shoulder, the monster began firing a barrage of firepower at them. Jason blasted both of them away with a might gust of wind but Xavien merely turned his target towards Duo, his ammunition unlimited. Duo raised a barrier in time but he struggled to keep it up as each impact strained him further and further.

Once again, Xavien was distracted as a chunk of the landscape struck him in the face and the intensity of his gunfire decreased somewhat. Solo seemed to have saved his ass again despite being nearly naked, scratched, and was that blood he saw leaking from his skin? Holy shit!

Xavien turned his attack towards the blond but Solo was already on the move, running underneath the Asimov so that he couldn't be struck from above. Xavien growled in annoyance, twisted his upper body around to try and catch the blond when he emerged on the other side.

Solo had been expecting this and had switched course. By that, of course, it meant that he had stopped, crouched down as far as his legs would allow and shot himself upward like a bullet. Xavien jolted and cried out in pain and anger as the blond entered and then exited him, ascending higher and higher into the air.

A helpful gale pushed the blond out of the way of a giant, swiping hand, one that Solo grabbed onto and pulled along with. Fingers dug into the hard metal as the blond glared at a forming gun turret that was aimed at him. Charging at it, Solo broke through the paltry defense and used other forming turrets as stepping stones, crushing them beneath him as he jumped from one to another.

His advance was unnoticed though as Duo decided to make himself known by blasting a wall of frozen time into Xavien's chest. Attention successfully diverted, the monster began aiming his attacks at the braided one, given Solo room to make it all the way up to the Asimov's shoulder.

Cracking his knuckles, he drew a fist back and threw it forward with all the strength that he had, nailing Xavien in the check and snapping the giant head to a side. Xavien's eye widened in shock at this, completely taken off guard but the rage that inevitably filled soon surfaced and Solo found himself being over taken by a mass of metal tentacles that wrapped around his body.

Solo cried out in both surprise and pain as the metal limbs wrapped around him and squeezed without mercy, applying enough force that the blond could feel his bones begin to give way.

Seeing this, Jason tried to help out by tearing the tentacles off the blond but Xavien's hold did not relinquish. Seeing the wind master use his ripping winds, the monster retaliated with a blast from his eye. Jason barely had time to get out of the way but the shockwave from the explosion that resulted slammed into him and hit him away.

While Xavien remained unaffected by the proximity of the explosion, Solo was feeling the effects of it up close as the burning green energy seared any uncovered flesh.

Solo's cries of pain reached Duo and the brunette reacted franticly as he tried to reach his suffering friend. He twisted and spun out of projectiles and enemy fire that was shot in his direction, forming shields and barriers to protect what he couldn't evade as he climbed about the metal body via his tendrils.

Xavien marked his progress and was ready for him when he reached his blond compatriot. A group of tentacles intercepted the braided one, trying to wrap around him as well. Time knives ready, he slashed as the nearest tentacles, his teeth clenched in strain as he fought off his would-be attackers.

However, his fate was destined to be the same as Solo's as the tentacles broke through his defenses and imprisoned him into a metal cocoon. The pressure exerted on his body was tremendous and unlike Solo, he couldn't take too much of it and was screaming in pain much to Xavien's delight.

Emerging from the metallic mesh that held the two teens arouse two flexible, wiry tubes that each had a long needle protruding from them. Unaware of this new danger behind them due to the immense amount of pain that clouded their minds, there was nothing they could do as the needles plunged themselves into their spines.

"HEH HEH HEH," Xavien rumbled. "I DON'T KNOW WHY I'M WASTING ALL THIS TIME MESSING WITH YOU TWO WHEN I COULD JUST ABSORB YOU BOTH INTO MYSELF AND GAIN EVEN MORE POWER!"

The pain was too excruciating for Duo to make a sound, even as his vision blurred and fell into darkness. Sight, hearing, touch, smell, taste, they all ceased functioning (and all in that order to be truthful) and Duo felt himself in the middle a deep, empty space. At least, that's what it felt like, as if he was floating in an endless expanse of nothingness as every bit of energy in his body seemed to be zapped from him.

Slowly, all his cares and thoughts disappeared from his mind as it became blank…except for this annoying buzzing sound that just wouldn't leave him alone. He twitched and tried to turn away from it but no matter where he turned, it was still there, never changing in frequency.

Couldn't a guy die in peace? Honestly!

If Solo had been around, he would have asked him to get that buzzing to stop. Wait, who was Solo again? Was he that blond guy with the weird name or was he the other guy who…wait, now he was just getting confused. Memories were jumbling up in his head now, faces of people he had met, each one with a smile on their face. Those smiles didn't last long as soon they changed into expressions of horror as a monster Xavien trampled over them and grounded them into dust.

Now he could see the vision of his dear, angelic Sister Helen laying in the ruins of the church and orphanage that she worked in. He could see Solo's limp body being held up by large spikes that shouldn't have been able to piece his body but did. He could see the faces of all those orphans at Father Maxwell's church, each one of them laying lifelessly with looks of pain and torment permanently etched into them before a metal hand enclosed over them and grinded them into dust.

His eyes, his real world eyes, snapped open and with a cry of defiance, he freed himself of all the bindings that restrained him with a self-encompassing explosion of his power, time sped up so fast within it that the tentacles were reduced to dust immediately.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRR!" Xavien roared as his connection with the braided one was unexpectedly severed.

Duo's crimson red eyes radiated with an intensity that gave him a demonic look but as he held himself up there in the air, nothing supporting him, his gaze snapped over to where Solo was still held and with barely a gesture, he directed his power to tear apart the bindings.

He began to move just as Solo slipped out of the disintegrating tentacles and when he was able to grab the blond, he warped both of them closer to the ground. However, he didn't get them close enough and they ended up falling a few more feet before slamming into the earth, Duo using his friend as a cushion against impact.

For a moment, everything was still, no movement from the two teens at all. Then a groan was emitted and Duo slowly pushed himself off his larger friend, rubbing the side of his head as if trying to chase away a headache. Beneath him, Solo shuddered and his non-amber, green eyes cracked open.

With a small smile gracing his lips, Solo said, "What took ya so long?"

Duo could only grin back at that in relief. No matter what happened, he could always believe that in this ever changing world that Solo would change the least.

The ground beneath them shuddered and their attentions were focused back on Xavien as the metal Asimov located them and slowly began to descend upon them.

"Christ," Solo groaned, letting his head fall back against the ground. "How da hell do we beat that thing? Every time we hurt it, it just grows something ta take us out!"

"Then we'll have to take the whole thing down at once," Duo said, crimson eyes becoming determined. "Hey Solo? How hard do you think you can throw me?"

"Wha?" the blond asked, blinking in confusion. He must have landed on his head harder than he thought…

"I want you to throw me at him, hard enough so that I can get inside him," Duo stated. Solo blushed a bright pink at the second meaning to that but disregarded it as Duo continued, "Once I get inside, I think I'll be able to put an end to this. For good. So, you up to it?"

"Ya know, you're crazy," Solo groused as he sat up. "But I gotta be crazy too. Get ready."

"Glad to know you're on board as Duo got to his feet and helped his friend up, Xavien closing the distance between them with every second that passed.

Picking up Duo, Solo faced the giant, his muscles tensing as he pulled his arm back, holding the braided one like he was a football. High above, Xavien looked down at them, a low pitch giggle coming out of his mouth as his only visible eye held nothing but insanity in it.

Gritting his teeth tightly, Solo moved forward and threw Duo like a spear, the braided one cutting through the air like a missile. With his power around him turning everything that touched him to rust, he shot through Xavien's defenses and right into the monster's chest, breaking through the hard exterior and entering Xavien's body.

Just as quickly as Duo made his entrance into Xavien, the monster's wound closed shut as wires and tentacles sealed the impromptu opening shut.

"FOOL," Xavien laughed. "NOW HE'LL NEVER ESCAPE ME. JUST LIKE YOU MY LITTLE PEST," he concluded as he looked down at the tiny Solo.

_Crap!_ Solo thought to himself.

Xavien took a step closer but then stopped suddenly as strange sensation interrupted him. "WHAT?" he rumbled as he looked behind him to view his monstrous bulk. There…right there…he could see it. Was that…a spot of rust? Growing on him?!

He raised a hand up to deal with it only to find out that he had problems moving the arm attached to said hand. Eyeing the limb that dared to protest, he noticed a splotch of rust forming on it as well.

"WHAT? WHAT IS HAPPENING?" he demanded as more and more splotches of rust formed all over his body, making it harder for him to move, even live at this point. "WHAT'S HAPPENING…TO ME?!"

And then it hit him.

"NO…" he uttered in horror. "**NO**!"

He could feel it inside of him, growing, aging, _destroying_, and there was not a damn that he could do to stop it as the time to expel it had long since past.

"GGGGAAAAAHHHHHHH!" he roared as he threw his head up, rust locking his neck into place. His eye widened to its fullest extent before it began to crumble and sink in as a shockwave blew out of his body.

All was silent and there was not a single motion from the metal Asimov. Then an arm caved in and began falling into pieces, soon followed by another limb and another until the whole body collapsed in on itself. It was then blocked from sight as clouds of rust and smoky powder obscured it and expanded outwards, moving over the barren land like a roaring tsunami and covering everything with dark gray dust.


	31. End?

Author's Note: It's been nearly a year and 86 chapters of this story but we're come to an end, or have we? Well, whatever happens, I'd like to give a big thank you to ShadowMajin and Kibin Okami who had been reviewing this leg of the story the whole time. I'd like to thank Archsage Soren, ShadowMajin, shinigamiinochi, Kibin Okami, and Observing Time for lending me various OCs that I have used and killed off over the entirety of what I'm calling The Maxwell Trilogy. And one last big thank you to ShadowMajin, Archsage Soren, and Kibin Okami for being here since the beginning and constantly giving me feedback to make this a better story. Couldn't have made it here, you guys, and that's just one more year of our lives spent. Hope to see you three again, you are my best fans after all.

Now for the rest of you, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warning: language

End?

_Ten years later…_

_The Maxwell Church and Orphanage_

"Are you still at it, James?"

The kneeling man glanced up from his prayers to look at his more self-assured brother before resuming his previous position, the bells of the church ringing in the background to announce the time with three chimes.

Father Maxwell continued to smile fondly at his younger brother. "It has been nearly a decade since that debacle was concluded. The men who abused and took hostage your dreams have been dealt with and can no longer hurt anymore people. Have you not forgiven yourself yet?"

"Too many were harmed and destroyed by me," James finally spoke after a long period of silence. "Children who should not have been touched had their lives and innocence stolen, noble men were corrupted by the power that was teeming beneath the surface of it, and countless others have suffered. I have not gotten close to repenting for all the pain that has been caused."

"It wasn't your fault, James," Father Maxwell said kindly as he crouched down next to his brother.

"I shouldn't have trusted him," James insisted.

"We all make mistakes," Father Maxwell replied. "No one could begrudge you wanting to make your dreams a reality. Isn't that what every human in this world desires to do? To bring to life the fantasies that are born from within our minds? You had good intentions; you were just blindsided by evil men."

"The path to hell is paved with good intentions," James stated. "I never wanted it to go the way it did."

"That's why you must forgive yourself, James," the priestly brother said. "We were given free will long ago in time immemorial and with it we are free to make our choices. You made choices that may have harmed some but even from evil, good can still be salvaged. Remember all the information that was recovered? Without it, more people have managed to recover from some of the worst diseases and disorders that have plagued us for centuries. That is something that cannot be taken from you, not even by God Himself."

"You have a point," James acknowledged.

"If you want to atone, you can't do it by kneeling here, praying for your immortal soul," the priest continued. "Forgive yourself. That is but the first step."

"And what comes after?" James asked.

"We'll get to that in time," Father Maxwell said, patting his brother's shoulder. "So, can you forgive yourself?"

"Not right now," James sighed. From the corner of his eye, he could see his brother's acolyte, the boy Yuuan who was busy replacing some candles. Even now, he was prospering despite what had happened to him. "But maybe soon," he added.

"And I'll be waiting right here for you," Father Maxwell said, his smile never leaving his face. "If there is anything you can trust, it will be that I will never abandon you, no matter how damned you believe yourself. You will get through this, I promise you with everything I can offer.

"You'll never be alone."

---

_A bar somewhere in the Central U.S._

"What do you mean you're cutting me off?!" a large patron demanded as he roared at the smaller bartender. "I'm a Goddamn paying customer, aren't I? Give me some fucking booze, you asshole!"

"I'd say you've had a little bit too much," the bartender replied wryly, his green streaked blue eyes never leaving the much bigger man in front of him. Compared to the man, the bartender was puny and wasn't helped at all by his thin frame. All and all, it looked like he could be broken into two easily.

However, the patrons of this establishment, especially the regulars who came here every day after work, knew better than to challenge this barely out of adolescence boy. Despite his diminutive frame, he had been able to take down even the burliest of men and put them into intensive care. How he was this strong was as mysterious as how his black hair turned white halfway down the strands.

Already the regulars were putting some distance between them and the drunk man but it was so subtle that few picked up on it. The bartender raised an eyebrow and asked, "Could I get you a cab? You can come back in the morning to pick your truck up when you're sober."

"Fuck that, prissy," the drunk spat. "I want some fucking beer now!"

The bartender's eyes narrowed. "You have five seconds to take that back and get out of here."

The air was full of suspense as the rest of the patrons awaited the inevitable. A few could swear that the very air _moved_ around them…

The drunk and the bartender continued their stare down, even as the five second deadline had long since passed. Then, "Last chance," the bartender said.

"Fuuuuucccccckkkkkk yyyyyyooooooouuuuuuuu," the drunk slurred.

The next thing any of them knew, a nearby table of customers were scrambling out of the way as the offending drunk was sent hurtling through the air to land on it, crushing the table beneath his weight.

Back at the bar, the bartender only had one fist raised and extended from his body and some could swear the air around it was swirling around it before vanishing. Slowly, he lowered the fist and gestured with the other for someone to get his latest KO out of here.

As that was taken care of, he turned towards the previous occupiers of the now ruined table and said apologetically, "Sorry for the inconvenience. How's about a round on the house sound to make up for it?"

The men at the ruined table nodded and then everyone resumed their previous activities, as if nothing of importance had happened, outside of a patron calling out "Atta boy, Jason!"

Jason, the master of wind and survivor of the Project Maxwell fiasco, only nodded his head and got back to work. He never would have thought he would end up in a place like this ten years ago when he had awoken from the battle with the monster Xavien.

He had been all alone then, Solo and Duo being nowhere in sight, as if they had vanished into thin air. There had been no word on either of them either in the years that had passed. There would be times when he would think about the assholes but he always pushed the thought of them aside.

He had a life now, something he had never had before. He was respected, made a living serving the very substance that he lacked a tolerance to but no longer consumed himself, and hell, he was content for the first time ever. No one was looking for him, they even thought he was dead.

He wouldn't have had it any other way.

The physical changes on his body still got to him every now and then, though. The way his hair was slowly turning white and he wasn't old yet and how it seemed that he could move his body with no resistance whatsoever. It would be in these times that he would remember Pike's words about how they would never stop evolving, becoming more than what they were.

To get out of these morose thoughts, he would always distract himself, successfully he would add, by entertaining the customers and patrons that came here, always giving them some wild story that was half based in fantasy and half in truth.

And he would forget. Yeah, he couldn't think of anything better than where he was now…

---

_Washington D.C._

It had been a tough decade for them.

Setting the federal government back up wasn't no easy chore yet trying to get it where no one would have an unfair advantage over others was even harder. It seemed like everyone and their mothers wanted things to be just the way _they_ wanted. The problem there inlaid that what one person or group wanted was completely different from what others wanted.

Of course, there were still the ones that wanted things to go back to the way they used to be right before Septum made his bid for power. If there was one thing that most agreed upon, it was that things _couldn't_ go back to "the way they used to be;" there was the risk that someone else would get bold and start another fiasco.

Before all things were said and done, though, Zechs was sure that he had some gray hairs in his legendary mane.

It was a shame that Keppel couldn't have been here to see this. The general had passed away eight months after the retaking of the capital and the disturbance in Arizona. In his place was a group of newbies who had no idea what they were doing but were going to have to do things from scratch using only the U.S. Constitution that Keppel prized so much as a guide.

One of the things that had been done was to limit lobbyists since it had been through them that the Big Three, WEI, Romafeller, and XAI, had risen to prominence politically. That, along with a few other things that some veteran politicians opposed and fought against to the very end were put in place as well.

The system wasn't perfect but it was reformed to some degree…

It was exhaustive work and that was primarily the reason why Zechs found himself sticking around; to make sure that it was working and not falling to pieces. They could have done a better job, he was sure of that. Other than those few changes and reforms, the government was nearly back to what it was right before the uprising. Sure, maybe the military was being restricted and put on a tight leash, but really, had nothing been learned?

It sickened him at times but at others he could see hope. He primarily saw the latter in the form of a young woman, a congresswoman from Arizona who was currently the Speaker of the House. Rumors had it she was the next Hilary Clinton or Eleanor Roosevelt while others condemned her to be the next Nancy Pelosi. She wasn't a Sarah Palin, to be sure, or Jackie Kennedy what with her more eloquent speech and the fact that she didn't sound like an airheaded bimbo despite her blond hair.

Yes, he expected great things to come from the young woman he knew as Relena Darlian and thanks to these past ten years, he knew not to expect miracles right away. These things took time, especially when the opposition consisted of those who didn't like to change too quickly.

Or at all.

She definitely had a fight on her hands but he could tell just from the way she spoke, how she sounded as if she not only believed in what she was saying but knew they would come to pass, he knew that she would be able to thrive and prosper.

However, that still didn't mean he wouldn't keep an eye on her. A personality as…dedicated as hers needed to be looked after, to be cared for and allowed to grow. He had already made her acquaintance but for now would remain out of the spotlight.

The presence of his beloved, Noin, leaning against him yet standing at ease was more than reassuring. He could feel her eyes on him and he couldn't help but let a small smile escape him.

"I think we can call it a day," he finally spoke. "Things seemed to be running smoothly."

"And yet you'll be here tomorrow to keep an eye on them," Noin replied wryly. "I know the drill."

"At least it gets me out of the house," he shrugged.

"I wish you would spend more time there," Noin said though she didn't sound too serious about it. In fact, was that a hint of teasing in her voice?

"What? Is the absence of my presence starting to get to you?" he teased. "Do you need me to come home and be a man for you?"

"Getting full of yourself, Zechs," Noin said. "Looks like I'm going to have to take you down a couple pegs."

"I'd like to see you try," Zechs challenged as he stood up from his seat in the spectators' section and headed for an exit, Noin right on his heels.

---

The evening sun shined down on the city and seemed to sap the strength out of those who happened to be caught in it, a certain Congresswoman Relena Darlian not being immune to it.

Her car didn't provide any protection as the sunlight beamed in through the driver side window, and combined with the exhausting session at the House, it could be understood that she wasn't in the best of moods. Traffic wasn't helping either but it was to be expected. Then again, she always did enjoy the peace and quiet she had while in her car, going to and from work. It always gave her the time to reflect on how far she had come with her life.

She doubted that if any of her old friends back in Boulder would believe that she, Relena Darlain, was one of the most powerful politicians in the United States, fourth in the line of succession as prescribed by federal law. Everyone had thought that she would just be a stay-at-home mother and marry her high school sweetheart…

No matter how much time had passed, she still missed Heero and would wake up in the middle of the night from the nightmares of watching him die time and again, like she had back in Los Angeles. His dead eyes still haunted her to this day.

Whenever thoughts of her past love came to mind, they would invariably lead to Dorothy. She had not heard from her or any word on her for the past ten years, not after she had left Xihong Deng's with Wufei to lead the Chinese to the remains of their hometown. Not a peep since then and she was sure that her best friend would have contacted her by now.

She didn't expect anything less from the stubborn girl who should be by her side, helping her get through the days ahead. She wanted to hear the dry humor that came from the other's blond's mouth, wanted to see how the other would treat the other politicians behind their back, what jokes they could have had between each other.

It was lonely being the last of your friends; she had to start over after the fall of XAI and the revelations of Project Maxwell was released to the world. How it was confirmed that the man behind the operation, Janus Xavien, was dead, she did not know and didn't want to know either. She was fed up with that chapter of her life and wanted to put it behind her and start on the next one.

She owed it to Heero after all.

After battling through the rat race, she finally turned into the suburb that she called home, and traveled the last half mile towards the small house that she was still paying the mortgage off on. It wasn't much to look at but it reminded her of the home that she had lost and she wouldn't have had it any other way.

While living modestly, the only thing that she did spend big bucks on was the home security system. It was one of the best that had risen after the fall of the Big Three and she had a basic need to feel secure while she slept, something that had formed after her nightmarish time in LA.

There was no one to watch her back now so she would have to make the precautions herself.

Her exhaustion made itself known as she pulled up into the driveway and turned her vehicle off. It had been a long day of arguing with simple minded men and woman who could fill a thimble with the amount of intelligence they possessed collectively. It was a trial just to get a few of them to see reason and even then there were still those that held onto their ways of doing things like it was going out of style.

It took her a few minutes to work enough energy to get out of her car and make her way up to the front door. That in and of itself seemed like an unneeded trek but she made it and all she needed to do was unlock that door in front of her and enter her humble abode where she could collapse onto her nice soft bed and fall into a catatonic sleep.

That sounded so nice…

It fact, that plan was so nice that she found herself on the other side of the door without any memories of unlocking or opening it. Automatically she found herself in front of the panel that regulated the home security system and she was halfway with punching in the code when something odd struck her.

It took her a second to realize that the panel was showing no signs of life, as if it had been turned off. Now how could that be? No matter, she'd just turn it on and…why wasn't this damn thing working? As her frustration mounted, she pushed random buttons, trying to get some kind of response but nonetheless received naught for her troubles.

Damn it, she was going to have to call her security provider and…and…

Wait, why did this seem so familiar? She could swear that something like this had happened before and was that the sounds of her television on and rapidly changing channels? Did she have an intruder?

Suddenly, the similarities hit her as she realized that what was happening right now had happened to Heero ten years ago, right before he was taken against his will by…

Slowly looking away from the panel, she swallowed as she stared ahead in anticipation. Could it really be? After all this time?

There was only one way to find out.

Resolute, she took a step forward towards the living room, braced for whatever might be waiting for her there.

It would be a lie to say that she wasn't excited about it.


End file.
